An Unlikely Love Poem
She is ill. Coughing. Struggling for breath.
Exhausted.
I am wounded. Sore, The surgeon’s scars still bright and vivid.
Weak.
Our hands touch. Skin to skin. Even now there is electricity in it.
Life.
About this poem.
A rough weekend at the Atkins house. But even so, I rejoice in having the woman I love nearby. Close enough to touch.
Tom
Rough weekend but in love.