Poetry 'n Prose


He doesn’t remember

anything, he’s not looking

where he’s going, only

breathing and observing

time slipping

away, before the doors

open; an older women gets

into the hospital lift

with him, her face stony

and her eyes stare

to the distance; focused

on something close

like his yesterday

in the same lift seeing

nothing, he wants to

hold her and be held

by her but numbness

sets in counting down

the numbers

of the floors to his heart

as they fall

to ground zero.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

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