Little Book

Little Book

A Poem by gabiaimee

a memory from Memorial Day Weekend 2014

Sitting on the second step
quiet and alert
in my hand a tiny book
of precious ancient words.

Flashing lights and siren cries
yet everyone is calm
could all of this have really been
from tingles up an arm?

Every new responder gives
a sympathetic look
I simply shrug and trace the spine
of my broken little book.

Cries echo down the street
but they tell me I'll survive
so we pack our things into the car
like another midnight drive.

Days go by in a blur
of blue curtains and white walls
weeks go by in a whirlwind
of greeting cards and phone calls.

When I sit on the second step
I want to hold that book
never have I read the words inside
but still, I feel the hook. 

© 2014 gabiaimee

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Added on October 4, 2014
Last Updated on October 4, 2014
Tags: reflection, reflect, memories, memory, step, second, book, little, poetry, poem, live, life, novel, tiny, ptsd, illness, sickness, ambulance, hospital, attack, heart




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