I see
through the open window he
watching her
hear the clock
the quiet
tick tock
I lay out the cards
one more time
watching him watching her
sweep the floor
looking up I see
dishes stacked to dry
I watch
him with her
until the tv flickers off
tick tock
I deal another
try not to see
the strange room
my unmade bed
YOU ARE READING
Love in all its Colours
Poetrya spectrum of deeply felt personal relationships, of meaningful selflessness and reciprocity "not always pretty not always fun not just for the young"
