Wrinkled Sheets

I held his hand beside the bed
As he lay on sheets
Wrinkled by dreams unknown
To me.
The restless sound
Of his sleeping disturbed
The sterile quiet of this strange place
Like he was the only one breathing.
The restless thoughts of my staring
Contradicted the stillness of my gaze.
Memories slid past my mind,
Previews of what was about
To flood my emotions
As I stood by - a spectator watching
The story of someone elses life
Affect him in a profound way.

His mouth gaped - frozen, really -
Waiting on health and reason
To open like curtains for
The next act to begin.
The spotlight moved across my mind
As the dancer took center stage.

The black-suited weeping clown,
With his loosened tie hangin just below
His unbuttoned white shirt,
Danced his solo with slow steps
Widowed from purpose.
He shuffled his painted smile around
To the sound of an unfamiliar, unmetered song,
Head down, eyes fixed
On the unforgiving floor of a stage
Drenched in pieces of dreams shattered,
Each crushing step
A thunderous reminder of a
Lost flash of hope that fell
Like rain crying from
The dark sky above.

The stage went dark, with the room
And my eyes.
And my mind was the screen
Playing home movies of the man
Before the disappointment
Affected us both and left us
With a longing for innocence again.
Longing for the companion
That was once there.
And I wonder if he ever
Held my hand beside the bed
As I lay on sheets
Wrinkled by dreams unknown
To him.