Bernie’s bare finger taps table top
Trying to bring a ring to life.
tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap
He talks of his work. Job.
Mom. Oh how his mother rails against him.
She’s on a fast track to a nursing home.
It would be better for him.
Out of his hair. For her too.
Someone else’s care.
His greasy angry lays heavy against
Bernie’s lungs. She’s not sure when she would breathe
if they were together.
But he’s single.
Isn’t she about that life?
She wasn’t sure,
The Wild Turkey was telling her to drink more.
With enough inside, she could go on a ride
Problems resolved behind closed doors,
back pressed against a wall.
As he went on about how mother’s lack of support,
But it rested on his shoulders,
younger siblings too busy being young- useless.
His fist balled, quick motion and he poured his anger out into the table. *crack*
The sound reverberated .
Forks clattering against dishes, murmured words,
shoes clacking against marble tile.
Eyes on them.
She excels at ignoring things.
Laid loving hands on him.
It’s going to be alright, she whispered.
Such passion, he had. Just needed it diverted into something positive.
Anyone with that kind of passion had divine right make things happen.
She could make them happen.
But he was such a kind man to want to take care of
everyone despite their failings.
A hero really.
He put family first before everything.
She respected that.
Even if there fear fluttered on the edge.
She assumed she would love him one day.
This month’s theme is Listening for #1000Speak for Compassion. I was thinking about Bernie from my WIP Blood Roses and Honeysuckles at the beginning of her dating her now husband. She had heard what she wanted to hear. And now things aren’t quite what she wanted.
There’s still time to link up. Go to the for #1000 SpeakCompassion Facebook page and link up there.
Other poems in the Blood Roses Group if you haven’t checked them out already: