"She wrote that one. She stuck it in my locker and at first, I threw it away because my friends were around, she saw me do it too. The look in her eyes, so full of pain. As soon as my friends left I grabbed it out of the garbage and quickly put it in my bag. When I was home I must of read it a thousand times." He laughs as he remembers his past.
"I'm going to get food." I smile at him. When in the cold, quite cafeteria, my fathers doctor walks up to me.
"M'am?" I look up at him, distracted from my thought.
"Huh? Oh yes?" I answer him.
"Your father seems to be doing well but we have some concerns."
"Yes he is doing fine, and wouldn't you hate to ruin the moment by telling us more bad news? Is that what you doctors do? Do you sit in your little break room and as soon as you notice people finally getting over the fact that their loved one is dying you just hit them with bad news?" I sound harsh but it seems like the bitter truth.
"M'am I understand how you have been bombarded with bad news but-"
"Do you truly understand? This is my father, a man who raised me by himself since young age, and you are telling me, that you understand how painful it is to hear that my father is dying and his condition isn't getting any better! If you truly did than you would let me have more than ten minutes if happiness!" I say, tears brimming in my eyes.
"I'm sorry. I will come back later." He says, showing his sorry in his facial expression. Just knowing there is more bad ruins my appetite. I walk back into my room and my dad is standing near the window.
"Dad,you should sit down." I tell him as I gently grab his arm.
"I may be old but I still know what's best. There's going to be a storm."
"It'd pure sunshine out there, your crazy to think there's a storm."
"Just wait." He turns to look at me. "This is going to be a good storm." I guide him back to his bed, it's a short distance but he is fragile.
"So how about another story?"'he asks once he is seated in comfort on his bed. I hand him his book from the night stand.
"I would love too." I tell him with a smile, in return he grins right back.
"This next one is called Time."
YOU ARE READING
Words from a broken heart
PoesiaPoems 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.
