Just some poems I've managed. I will try to fit in happy notes. I did write all of these so please don't say I stole them. Thanks for reading!
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I walked into the room,this hospital I've visited to many times. He's laying there, looking at an old, ratty book. The machine doing it's steady rhythms of beats. As he lies there and reads, I stand in the door way and watch. He's been here so long and he doesn't deserve it. Why is he stuck here, he is in no pain, if he is he won't admit it.
"Hey dad." I say with a weak smile. He looks up from his book and smiles. As I walk over and sit in the chair next to his bed, the chair that knows me too well, he marks his page, closes the book, then smiles at me.
"How is your day sweetheart?" His old, wise voice speaks. I put my small, fragile hand in his large calloused hand.
"Couldn't be better. The doctor says-"
"I am done with what the doctor says! I know I'm old! I don't need a status report everyday to remind me!" He says in a soft anger tone.
"I know dad, I know."
"Everyday you come in here and all we do is small talk. What happened to the little girl I used to know? She would jump in my bed and demand a story to be told. She would sit on the counter while her mother made brunch and as soon as I walked in she would scream 'STORY, STORY!' Where is that sweet little angel?" He says looking into my sadden eyes with his bright stormy ones.
"She is still here dad, she is just full of worry." I tell him honestly.
"How about another story?" He says with a grin.
"Dad, I have already heard all of them."
"I have saved many more for old age darling." He tells me sweetly.
"Alright dad, tell away."
"Yes! Now these stories are about a special person. These are from when I was in my prime time!" He opens his book and flips to the first page.
"Now back in my day I was never a person for love, but then I saw her, like the rarest, most beautiful creature ever seen. Since I was never a love guy, I didn't know what to do. Every time I tried I was heart broken, but like the idiot I was I put it in a diary." He says as he shakes the book in his hand.
"I was a smart idiot though because now they make a great story." He smiles. I get comfy in the chair knowing this is going to be a long story.
"This first one is called Daisy, I had a friend come up with the tittles since names were never my thing. I am a daisy-"
YOU ARE READING
Words from a broken heart
PoésiePoems that come straight from me. I will have some poems the I love that are by other people and I will give them credit. There is a small back ground story for those who would like some story plot.
