Time In the Mind
Drifts pile against the back door
ajar
cold creeps across the floor
where she sits with his head
in her lap
soft breaths escape his lips in
short puffs
startling blue eyes
beseech hers
in silence
as
blood trickles
from his ear
onto her white tennis shoe
she gently combs his curls
with trembling fingers
knowing
bloody bubbles blowing
down his chin
means
time
is
once again
real.
Copyright © Jill Martin | Year Posted 2006
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