long hospital corridors are lonely,
and even his hysterical pose,
green droopy gown,
black dress shoes and red socks,
a smile and snappy wave,
do not belie the fragility
beneath the masquerade, or
the foresaken lines echoing the laugh


Sunday morning we walked around each other in icy silence,
Still stinging from battle wounds wrapped in self-regard,
And both wanting to surrender into the other's arms.

"I love you. I have always loved you."


long hospital hours are lonely,
so he gives the pretty nurses
an old flirtatious wink
to remind them he's still there,
and in a moment too quiet
he takes your hand, and
simply holds it,
while the tears come and go,
passing between you in silence

I look into my husband's eyes, the man, and I see the questions of a child.
After all these years I know his tenderness, and I know his fear.
He aches to tell the man.

"I love you, dad. I have always loved you."

jeanne rene 8/03