Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Julian Was Coming To Visit

Glassy eyes,

against the glass,

of the garden facing window.

Day is done,

dinner,

unfulfilling,

clock ticking,

then snailing.

I hold a picture of him,

beside my beating heart,

that breaks,

with every minute.

Time snakes,

snailing,

hope hounded,

but prevailing,

because he could arrive,

at any minute.

Life is a surprise,

if you let it be.

Nurses collide,

whispering in the doorway,

about how he phoned,

how he’s sorry,

how he’s busy,

how they should tell me.

His picture,

pierces my heart,

until it is shattered and silent,

but I keep on living,

alone,

antique,

that he keeps,

in an expensive cupboard,

until he can collect his inheritance.

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