long small hours
pass in slumber
slow arrows of
shadow fly to their mark
that morning
we went riding in
the late Spring heat
came across a woman
on the footpath
maybe a decade older
than us
resting on the seat
of a walking frame,
no hat
excuse me, how do
you get in?
wanting
to go up to her room
on the first floor,
searching the
single-storey houses for the entrance
to the nursing home,
not far behind her
kicked in the
stomach,
I held our bikes as
Kate pushed her home
kicked me in the guts
ReplyDeleteone of those unexpected experience, just round the corner from where I live
ReplyDelete*experiences
ReplyDeleteWhat a fine poem that is, knocking on heaven's door.
ReplyDeletecomes from living near a nursing home!
ReplyDelete