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My side of the Bed

Blankets and sheets twisted carelessly about.

Many pillows propped allow sitting and reading to all hours of the day or night.

I stopped waiting for you to come thru the door.

My bedside table, lamp always on, my only company, my only illumination at times.

Cups, saucers, coffee mugs, plates, napkins, you never would have allowed such

accumulation of this ware in the bedroom, but shared no longer, but by me alone.

Radio takes up half the space on my bedside table, it goes hardly used, collecting dust now.

"Turn it Off", you would say the last month of your life. No interest left.

No interest in radio nor t.v. neither. "Turn it Off", you would say.

But the clock, the time, the hour, always asking for the time.

"What time is it?", you would ask. My glance at the digital clock every time for you.

But never asking, "Why Honey?" "Why do you want to know the time?"

but constantly asking for the time, and my never asking why?

The digital clock I wrapped up away after you left me. I could not bear to look at it.

No clock left in our bedroom now. It would send shivers if I did and the memory forever hurt.

Our picture on my bedside table, we are smiling happily together, smiling back at me.

Arms around each other, we looked healthy, vibrant, secure, picture taken maybe 5 years ago.

Say goodnight, say good morning to our picture on my bedside table.

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