Wednesday 25 April 2018

My Daughter

Gerard Mitchell

Being with you,

Watching your chest for the rise and fall of your breath.

Gentle and unobtrusive breaths.

Signalling you're still alive.

In a moment or two of day dreaming

I free you from the nasal­gastric tube,

and carry you out beyond your empty wheelchair.

We're together now in some marketplace in France

and we walk down a cobble stoned street hand in hand.

Your brown eyes like melted chocolate

In the scented breeze,

Your hair blowing over your pale skin.

And I look at you from depths of unparalleled lovingness.

The longing,

The gnawing loss.

Drowns in laughs and mad shouts of living and fun.

Oh that something would puncture all this and reality tumble back,

So callous and thieving.

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