My Love Trods on Ground

My Love Trods On Ground

                                    -- Inspired by something the Bard once taught me.

He firmly clasps her hand and attentively considers her heartfelt words,

as they casually stroll along the warm sand, washed by the endless waves;

they are echoes of countless beaches united by the oneness of water and love,

shared by throngs of lovers in every nation and people.  It’s a greeting card.

My love lies weak and green in the hospital bed following her gall bladder surgery.

I sit quietly on an uncomfortable chair next to her bed, stiffly waiting for her to wake up.

When she stirs and opens her mouth, I know where the smell in the room is coming from,

but when she cracks a wan smile, I am happy; it had been a good idea to wait here for her.

She shifts on the bed with a familiar groan that indicates her need to purge.

The uninterested nurse on the other side of the room points to the cabinet,

“Emesis basins are in there.”  She returns to whatever it was she was doing before.

I open the cabinet and retrieve a very small kidney shaped plastic pan, cheerfully pink.

As I awkwardly try to maneuver toward my love in a cramped space, I must lean toward her,

holding the tiny pan out for her as unseen forces build within the center of her gut.

My love convulses as mightily as a weightlifter, as her head comes toward me fast;

she heaves into the pan, immediately filling it with a bile puke resembling her pea soup.

My love breathes heavily across the pan as I struggle to keep from spilling;

she falls helplessly upon her pillow, her face a mere shadow of herself.

“Yes, I am here, don’t worry,” I assure her, as I worry about the pan of pea soup.

Once disposed, I think about the card I didn’t buy in the gift shop, and smile to myself.