Blooz by Lisa R. MacDonald / Lisa

I hold your pillow
Where you used to be –
For the fleeting moment
When I can dream
That no time has past
And you are only off
In your favourite nook
Trying so hard
To sound so tough
With your native growl
And hiss
Especially
When you boxed
With the shadows
And beat them down
Returning triumphant
To ride my shoulders
Like a king
With green eyes
That so beguiled
All those years
The baby
Who wanted
To stay that way
Forever.
But you got so sick.
In the end – insisting
right up until
The last
Your throne
Was my shoulder.
And it was.

 

Out of the blue - you came to me...
Blooz
6, Apr 2001
Lisa R. MacDonald