LEAVE OF ABSENCE
The sun awakened a brief pleasure
warming a taste of bliss near enough
to forever. Still sitting on an old
crate with coffee and cigarette,
you absorbed the busy patter of
rosellas, the sea breaking mantras.
Squeezed a touch of happiness from
those four hard years that conquered
your stubborn will and sapped your
tired heart with a loneliness no
visitor could fill. The afternoon light
hit the corner of the house, setting
a stage on which we sat opposite,
like characters in a Pinter play, stark
in our knowing, waiting for death's
prop to unmask the stillness in chaos.
Absurd in our focus on appointments
to be kept or what to have for tea.
Routine now precluded the old
safety net that used to trap
tommorrow, against the odds.
You taught me how to cry. Once
you said, our souls are rarely bared, except
for the creator, and only after the event.
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