Midnight

Slowly I descend the stairs—
my hand on the rail.
She sits in the living room,
the back of her head
a silhouette in the TV’s glow—
channel after channel
there’s nothing on.
I pause upon the final step
and watch.

Inhaling, I approach her.
I rest my hand—I hesitate—on her shoulder.

“Honey, let’s go to bed.”

No comments:

More Poems