[54] – Arrival
It was eleven thirty in the afternoon
When a boy stepped into the hospital room.
His eyes seemed to be searching
For something; someone.
His eyes rested on the girl
In her favorite while sweater
Tinted with coffee.
"It's nice to finally see you again.
It's been too long."
He said, walking up to her.
The boy in the room recognized
His voice.
Now standing before him,
Was the one who had picked up
When he had called the number
On the missing persons poster
One month and more ago.
And now he was standing here
To take her away,
He realized.
"Who is he?"
The boy standing at the doorway asked.
"Who is he?"
The boy in the hospital bed asked.
The girl did not tear
Her glance away
From the boy at the doorway.
"He is my friend. He is hurt."
The girl stated,
Her expression as hard as stone.
"And he is the only exception to my loneliness.
I thought I had meant it
When I said
I wanted to stay alone,
Brother."
YOU ARE READING
Pluviophile
PoetryIt was a rainy day, in New York no less. One held a cup of coffee, wishing for the rain to stop. One held a hand full of old books, savouring the moment. short story #98 poetry #51
