I have touched your hand
– by accident –
On the kitchen table,
Littered with tea bags
And sorrow soaked handkerchiefs,
Regrets soaked …
I wiped your tears with the towel we used to dry the dishes.
It made you laugh and made me smile.
Almost naked, you held your pyjama bottom with your left hand while the right barely covered your belly button…
The mascara had flooded and dried on your cheek, like the silver strand we knew once, left with maritime litters from uncontrollable fights…
I covered your frail shoulders with the old wool cardigan slowly dying on the back of my office chair. Your lifeless hand ran through my hair and grabbed the collar of my shirt before it finally fell, like a rag doll’s harm by the side of your waist:
” Thank you ” you whispered as I held your greasy haired head against my chest ; [ you are welcome] I replied to myself… ” you are welcome”!
Keep Well, Eat Happy
Franck… aka Fanch Ar Moenner