Roadsign

*image found HERE

Roadsign

Sometimes I worry
that your lemonade might be too sour,
that too much sugar will kill you,
that your heart
will succumb to the utterance
of all the winds that lodge
in the wheezing of your bones;
sometimes I worry
about all the boats
you forgot how to build,
that pocket watches
now merely converse with you
about wilting and passing,
that you are more fragile
than the flowers
you used to pot around our balcony
like an acrobat.
Sometimes I worry
that your clothes are too
thin for the season,
that you are skipping breakfast;
your spot at the table became mine
and each day before attempting living
I sit and gaze at our blooming birch
as peaceful as the surface of your whiskey
used to be
and I know that
if your mouth could remember words
you would tell me not to worry;

but how do I teach stillness
to a dead bird?

*For NaPoWriMo day 4. The topic for today together with the poem selected to be today’s inspiration hits a little too close to home, almost completely, so this prompt robbed me of all eloquence, hence why my entry is as plain as I barely mustered it to be.

~ by Oloriel on April 4, 2019.