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Damp Harvest
by
Rusty Broadspear
It was a dreadful morning
As I harvested her tears from the pillow,
It was the evening before, that she said
She would always love me tomorrow.
The call came in the night
Through a time machine it seems,
It awakened her and her voice sunk low
A rude awakening from our dreams.
The call was over and
Sadness treacled into our room
A weight of doom was on my eyelids
Sleep, armour, please return soon
Her Father who abandoned her years ago,
After twelve years of abuse,
Phoned to say that he was dying
I thought he was taking the juice.
She didn't want to see him, but
I didn't know she was ridden with guilt.
So she had to go and make the trip,
To visit the poison that was spilt.
So we agreed we'd sort it in daylight
But sleep held me hostage from then,
And it wasn't until the roughage of morning
That I harvested and harvested, Amen.
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