I used to sit at the foot of
the bed, drinking, listening to the ceiling fan, looking at the floor.
Ants running around
frantically, working, living a life, full of purpose.
Then she would caress my back,
gently, with top of her soft fingers and asking me, “what are you thinking
about sweetheart?”
And I always used to say, “I
would be so lost without you”.
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