Cold nights,

long sobs,

waking and listening as

time slips away.


Hard to face

the glare of day,

but having no other choice

I rise.


Then pausing

to catch the reflection

of a face I no longer

recognize as mine, I shudder.


What happened to the girl,

the little girl with blond curls

that jiggle when she moves

and lavender pedal-pushers?


What happened to the young woman

with tresses down her back,

arms strong from garden work,

skin browned by summer sun?


What about all the dreams,

golden and ripening

and ready to devour – the dreams,

now too bittersweet to taste?


Stumbling through routines

without feeling

without thinking.

Going through the motions:


a short nod,

a tight-lipped smile,

a curt response;

Barely surviving.


Drifting through the business of

another day  and still

another and another…

much as if it’s someone else’s life –


Someone else’s life












2 thoughts on “Watching

  1. Lynne – what a great piece of poetry- I can feel and see the emotion throughout the reading. Simple and complex at the same time. No useless ornaments that would have killed this beautiful writing. This reflection, this time for the reflection makes this poem a delicacy. Frank


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