Love It Is Called
They call it love
We sit in the hospital waiting room
when your name is called
You get up slowly still wearing a crutch.
You walk a bit lopsided.
Your coat is inside out
this is because it’s raining
and you want to protect the colour.
You are elderly now, but still beautiful inside.
Feel like getting up embracing you,
but instead get up and have coffee
in the vending machine.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
