heavy and torn
profound
I offer to lend a hand
I offer to lend a hand
Since there’s no one else around
What good am I
If I don’t at least
try to relieve her load
But I underestimated
just how much
one woman could hold
One by one
I take her luggage and
leave it at the door
Fatigued and exhausted
from bowels to core
I wash my hands
in attempt to walk away
Suddenly I hear,
“honey wait, you think you can stay?”
Empty now but without
the heart to refuse
I hold out for the day
that instead of bags
She’ll bring me good news
--Christian S, Adult