Thursday Morning – Written Monday 20th January 2020 (Aged 44)

Thursday Morning

shock,
is a tangible state
just,
as i push my food around the plate
your ale is finally drunk
but i am left with the slate
as my memories,
spill out of a cheaply made plywood crate

shock,
that a thursday morning
could turn so sour
and that we be caught on painful barbed wire
sat there, just counting each hour
us, huddled around the hospital bed
as thoughts about distant conversations
reminded us of words we had once said

shock,
it rams home with a brutal force
just,
as on that thursday morning i am thrown off course
and i watch unnatural breathing
indicating,
someone is hurriedly leaving
how could this have happened with out planning
that thursday morning,
its fate so damning




James Garratt – Monday 20th January 2020


More poems at 
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More about this blog, The Boy Behind the Glasses, here
 https://theboybehindtheglasses.com/2020/01/08/the-boy-behind-the-glasses-an-introduction/


More poems from 2020 here 
https://theboybehindtheglasses.com/category/poems-and-writing-2020/