Poems are music without guitars
They normally have titles
but this simple song
doesn't need one
to describe
the waiting,
watching
the clock's hands
stop
the minutes feeling like years
as your last gasps of breath
rattle around the room.
Time ticks slowly around my watch
as I remember our evenings together
when I would sit close to you
reading aloud from your favourite books.
That was when I was younger
and would write letters
when I couldn't come
for an extra-sweet, extra-strong cuppa -
the way we both used to drink it.
That was before I started letting
an essay or party
shove you to last in the queue
falsely promising to visit
next week
next month
next never-ever
because there was always
something more important to do.
You're gone now.
We gave you flowers
and had a post-service sandwich
while they talked about you
and told me I'd being given your stereo
because we both liked music -
you, with your opera and trumpets
me, with my drums and rock-classics
but I'm too scared to use it
because I'm sorry
I can't sing a happy tune for you.
Nicky Ellam is an English undergraduate at Hull University. To her family's disappointment she has somewhat elusive career prospects. In her spare time she co-edits a printed zine called Eclectic Eel. Nicky has had work published by thisisull.com, Rain Dogs and Incandescent.
Nicky Ellam is an English undergraduate at Hull University. To her family's disappointment she has somewhat elusive career prospects. In her spare time she co-edits a printed zine called Eclectic Eel. Nicky has had work published by thisisull.com, Rain Dogs and Incandescent.
