Fold

We fold shirts in the candlelit room
Two scrawny women standing
Hands busy
As if nothing really matters at all
We watch the poems fall like pills
Try and devour them
Sweet as sugar drops
We never get tired of watching
Waiting
A silent scream brews inside
Remember when we almost died
We were tired then
Full of exotic changes
Somewhere where all of life is over and done
If we run out of steam that moment may creep upon us again
Well we won't let it she says watching my eyes
The light fills my senses
Brings something magical to each fold and crisp line
There have been many twists and turns
But we always come back to this room
Settle under the window
Sleep in the red bed
I blow out the candle
The dark wraps around us like a friendly arm
I hear her breathing softly and marvel at her being
I don't shut my eyes
Not yet
When the moon falls I will
In the morning we will wear the neatly folded shirts
Try another day
As the clock ticks I drift off happily
Perhaps tonight there will be dreams
Sweet as sugar drops
Far better than pills.