I sit heavy, next to her mechanical bed
noticing its angle.
Her hospice tongue lulls in her mouth.
Ice will only satiate the need.
I wonder at the tired eyes of my mother,
watching her mother.
His distracted foot twitches as he prepares
to somehow be without.
How will he have tea alone,
without her to share the tea bag?
"Nan and I" starts every story
--A life side by side.
So young for her to marry.
All thought her knocked up.
But no. Just in a hurry
with the war nipping their heels.
Poor and sick most her life, but with her Bud.
How do sweethearts live alone?
How do they be without?
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