(no subject)
You enter the room with shuffling steps,
Back bent from the stooping
That a mechanic must learn to endure.
You lower yourself slowly into a chair,
Legs shaking in your high water pants,
The tartan socks you treasure
Peeking above your Velcro shoes.
You pick up your cup of steaming tea
And bring it to your lips.
Numb to the scalding liquid
From years of sipping
Your favorite Red Rose brand.
You look up as I sit next to you.
I make no attempt to talk,
The flesh colored plugs aren’t in your ears,
You won’t hear anything under a shout.
I pick up my own teacup,
Lift it to my lips, and let out a yelp.
Your rasping laugh rings out in the quiet room,
And we settle back in our tea sipping silence.