Number Two

Bob Marcotte

Number Two

Bob Marcotte


Number Two

Pain sculpts your face

as your head gently creases the pillow.

You close your eyes and hope for sleep,

I sit near and struggle to breathe.

My impotence suffocates me,

I am drowning.

Life again weighs heavily on us both,

but we will lift it again. Somedays

I lift more, most days you lift it all.

Pain reflects between us

like a candle flame

burns the skin.

Yet we grasp tighter,

hand in hand. Tighter,

ever tighter.

Sleep now little one.

Like the sun, I promise to be there when you wake. Like

the sun my promise burns forever,



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Very well said and so lovely, Bob.

Casandra Porter

That was beautiful, Bob!