Bridging the gap
She loved her baby as she walked in that room.
Sterile and steel and cold.
It's not so black and white,
But gray.
A sea of gray in which to swim.
To drown.
The hum of machines like the lullaby she will never sing.
She loves her baby.
Maybe in another life, more generous to her.
Maybe in another body.
Maybe not.
She loved her baby as she walked in the room.
She l...
Thursday 10th December 2015 4:09 pm
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
3 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
18 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
19 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
22 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
23 hours ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
23 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
23 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
1 day ago
Ray Miller on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago