|
Symptom Management |
a woman sits tearful,
stares into a chain-link fencer.
she is caught
between the world in which she exists
and the other one,
that invades her mind, shades her eyes
to the beauty of each moment
pressure pushes the edge of a ragged envelope
times moves fast on an old wall clock
an airliner passes overhead
green plants grow, bloom
and die off
she looks for comfort
not in center of her being
nor the axis, on which turns the universe
but in the presence
of another.
copyright 2004
Jack G.
Bowman |
