by Mick Goodson
I sit by your form
now so battered and worn and
"I love you" I softly whisper,
In this room thatís crammed full of indifference,
Cold fluorescent light
overhead scorches bright.
Tired thoughts on my mind form a blister.
Did you suddenly wake,
did you turn and smile at me,
or did I just drift off somewhere?
No, it just cannot beT
to unlock your mind thereís no key,
for you're lost... and the return journey is too steep.
Was that something you said?
Did you speak my name,
or was it just the muffled air-conditioning?
No... you have not moved.
So still, so silent and far removed
from your Nemesis... and your bodies attrition.
'Wake up! please wake up!' My mind is screaming
with no witness save a wavering spirit.
As the long night fades away
dawn tumbles and breaks into day.
Electric cleanerís remind me Iím not dreaming.
So I sit and I watch and wait and hope
then hope and wait and watch.
'Come back,' I say
in this bleached womb where everything ignores me.
Yet, beeps from an umbilical machine reply,
with short, sharp claustrophobic sighs
and I ache to sever and throw it away.
To close a door and continue on as before,
that all this did not, could not happen... not to us.
But it did, and we're here-
and Iím counting minutes, and Iím counting hours
Iím counting breaths and Iím breathing with you,
and Iím counting and counting and breathing for you.
Then I sit and watch and wait and hope
then hope and wait and watch...