skilled seamstress left

a delicate embroidery

on your flesh,

the scar sits

criss-cross-applesauce

on your belly and the

first day of school dress never worn.

i watch

your chest draw shallow breaths,

i wait

for a sentence of silence.

forever more.more.

moremore.

i’m jealous

of your new playmate,

pulling you away in

his red wagon.

scabby wheels turn

upanddown squeaky.

looking back, leaving me.

the words won’t come, littleone,

the words won’t come,

but the colors flow.

07 Jun This entry was published on June 7, 2011 at 9:29 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.