Anaesthetic

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  • Love

    Anaesthetic

    My brother is not grinning

    Deep in his sleep

    He's not smiling

     

    When his eyes open, they don't glow like they used to be;
    the way we were running in the rain covered in mud
    from dust the driest day brought


    In a white gown his face is empty 

    He sees me but doesn’t need me,  

    Hears me but isn’t really with me

     

    Wake up!

    Play again!

    Push me around on the bike

    Tickle me

    Tease me

    Trick me

    Anything…

    Just wake up!

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    M4n1s’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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    0
    It's rainy day 1
    Saved by the angels 0
    Edgwarebury Park 2
    Starlings 0
    Anaesthetic 0
    A Housewife's Moment of Sanity 1
    One Lucky Immigrant 1
    Auschwitz - Gaza 1
    To an "ex-Mum" 1