our heartbeat slowed
to the voices of radio
the dog,
head angled ears tuned in
watched,
licked at sound
there was dawdle in step
morning cracked its egg
books and toast
gave over day
we worked that paddock clean
until evening called us in
to each page turner
a remit dangling there
left by sightless patience
thinking how each character
spoke without vision
of our remorse into night
no stations for switch
the epilogue bated
asleep shoulder to shoulder

Oh James, I only just noticed this one as it was one of the last pieces posted for that Writers’ Pantry. I’m gl`ad I didn’t miss it; I like the build-up of details.
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Thanks Rosemary, glad you liked it!
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