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Special Breakfast

Special Breakfast. She pours my tea, as so many times before. One sugar, a little milk, just the way I like it. I pour his tea, as so many times before. One sugar, a little milk, just the way he likes it. I watch her. Greying hair. Lines around her eyes. An ageing, worn smile. He watches me. A touch of grey at his temples. Strong jaw. As handsome as the day we met. If only she had had something other than me. Something of her own. A child maybe. His crisply ironed collar. His shiny, polished shoes. How would he manage without me. I can’t remember when it all became so stifling. So routine and mundane. I’ve been so lucky to have the comfort and security of our marriage. Maybe if she’d been more passionate I wouldn’t have needed anyone else. I knew there would never be anybody else for me. He was always the one. She sits opposite me and sips her tea. He sits opposite me and sips his tea. How can I tell the woman I once loved, who depends on me, that I am leaving her. How can I tell my love, my life, that I only have a short time to live.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 1/25/2016 7:05:00 PM
LOLA, Excellent written poem, Awesome flow. Luv ** SKAT **
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Date: 8/15/2015 11:49:00 AM
So sad, so complex. How do we tell anyone we love bad news. I was there in the Doctor's surgery when they told my wife she had cancer and was going to die on her 60th birthday. Never a good moment, never a good time. Kind regards, Ian
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lola barron
Date: 8/16/2015 2:49:00 AM
Thanks for your comments and I'm sorry for your sadness. Lola.