Sunday, March 05, 2006

The crises

The moment for honest conversation
was clearly not now

The air infected with germs
and bad sleep

The night`s were cold
yet wet from sweat (get up and change the sheets)

The early sleepless mornings
was a constant headache

I stroked some blue hair from her forehead and said:

don't worry honey
It`s not us
It`s just the flu