(no subject)
old women walk weary and slower
in the months after their husbands die.
they still wake before the sun
and prepare meals for an empty tablesetting.
and to all the passerbys passing by,
they dont look up, they just mummble hi.
to continue the yard work in front of their...
...her dream-home.
nothing more than a nightmare, now completed alone.
trying to keep their elder will and strength.
at times, i wonder if they imagine a breathing
comfortability sleeping next to them at night.
what is it like to close your eyes and pray to
be with him once again.
past the treasures of oxygen and molecules.
ive never experienced this kind of devotion.
to be turned helpless and hopeless.
so, to the darling gray hairs.
worn hands touching a withered hope.
i hope to be a dead husband some day.
in the months after their husbands die.
they still wake before the sun
and prepare meals for an empty tablesetting.
and to all the passerbys passing by,
they dont look up, they just mummble hi.
to continue the yard work in front of their...
...her dream-home.
nothing more than a nightmare, now completed alone.
trying to keep their elder will and strength.
at times, i wonder if they imagine a breathing
comfortability sleeping next to them at night.
what is it like to close your eyes and pray to
be with him once again.
past the treasures of oxygen and molecules.
ive never experienced this kind of devotion.
to be turned helpless and hopeless.
so, to the darling gray hairs.
worn hands touching a withered hope.
i hope to be a dead husband some day.