Without
a Word Spoken
From a dead sleep
I awoke
The house was
in darkness
No sound of any
kind I heard
The rustle of
the trees, maybe
But I awoke and
stumbled
In my underpants
Through the house
Knowing I was
awake for a reason
A slit of light
showed
Under her door
I found her sobbing
on her knees
Before his drawer
Neatly stacked
and laundered clothes
Threatened to
spill out
"....Mom.... what
are you doing ?"
"Thank you for
coming son, I called you"
"They are his,
son, he doesn't need them any more"
"They are his,
son,
"Get me a bag"
We loaded them
into Bags For Sale
In some distant
town
It would make Dad
feel good that a drunk or a homeless bum
Could afford his
new clothes
Coats, trousers
and clobber.
(C) Copyright 1999
EWAN ELLIOTT
All Rights Reserved
