the room is darkened but alive
to the beeping of machines
and glow of indicator lights
green and red
noisy
and yet hushed
tubing adds a surreal air
she is in the room
seated in a chair by the bed
red eyed when awake
dozing from time to time
he is in the corridor
for a moment of air and space
seeing activity all around him
seeing nothing
thinking .......... everything
thinking nothing
she arrived before him
summoned at her work
he found out
when he reached the last message
on his answering machine
the uncertainty
and trauma
have affected them both
made them distraught
when already they were on edge
this has come out of the blue
and he doesn't know
how he should deal with it
if there is anything that he can do at all
it seems out of his hands
his mind strays
to what this might mean
in their lives
to the note he left
pinned to her pillow this morning
whether she saw it
or if there might be a chance
to retrieve it unread
whether anything should be said about it regardless
when everything is so changed
compared to this
he and she
are a petty concern
he wanders back
into the room where a ghost figure
has checked the tubes
made some notes
silently drifted out
from a chair
he watches the bed
absorbs the regular rhythms
of breath and beep
the repetitive patterns of green lines
thinks how long one night
can be
~
- Author: Frank Prem ( Offline)
- Published: February 13th, 2018 00:03
- Comment from author about the poem: The Book of Evenings.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Comments2
This is a moving write Frank.
All things between the dusk and the dawn, GF.
Frank,
Those kinds of nights can be very long! May be painfully sad, but have to be endured! Emotionally draining!!
A fine write my friend!
Well done!
~Laura~
Thanks Laura.
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