Numb

 

One couldn’t help

But imagine her

With her pillows,

Blankets and laptop

Curled in a corner

Of her bed,

The world shut away

For the weekend

Except for an occasional

Glance out the window

At the motel across

The way,

Did she wonder

What went on in

Those rooms,

What the shadows

On the blinds and

Curtains were up to,

Or was she now

All numb to that.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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