Friday, 17 September 2010

Leeds 2008







1 comments:

Dawn said...

At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless

Poem I read at the Home from Home where Catherine was beginning treatment.