Sheep waiting
*Sheep waiting*
He always was
Her little boy blue.
Sinking into the couch
Huddled over the fire of
That thick storybook.
I loved the words, you
Loved the pictures.
The pictures told a story too.
Little boy blue has eaten
His cows,
Flayed all the sheep.
All but three.
Living in
His glorious history
From here on,
This life
Is survival.
He thinks he’s
Left us behind,
As abandoned scraps,
Voices scattered in
His wind whipped pockets.
He carries us tucked
In his mind.
After all the crumbs,
Pointing the way home
Have betrayed him
In the rain,
We
Are all he will find.
I wrote this in the frustration of dealing (along with my family) with my brother's devastating addiction/alcoholism.
