69.

I see the end coming
far off
(but sure)
I feel the pull of the earth
weakening
when before it held me tight

my eyes blur, and
you are hazy there where you sit
nearly with me
but somewhere else
at the same time
the fog rising between us

I see the end coming
far off
(but sure)
the aches are greater
when it rains
and your anger pricks me
when I cry

contemplating why
I have failed
to dredge up empathy
among the roses
or even pity
this dry spell of months
drags heavy behind

***

photo used by permission

 

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