Surrounded by family, but nowhere to go
Wide open spaces and left on her own,
Wine bottle fervent, single glass resides
At 3 in the morning with all alone eyes.
Sleep depraved poetry etched from no calls
Life on the table incising withdrawals,
Awakened versed reams, laying besides
The person who’s her with all alone eyes.
Wondering what was and may ever be
Is this her life or is it a dream,
Can it return through a mirrored reprise
Or will she reside forever, within her all alone eyes.
© Nick Hawkins, all poetry rights reserved 2009