Sheila stares
at the wall
of her room
on her bed
thoughts on John
what he said
his soft touch
of her hand
as he got
on the bus
leaving her
standing there
at the school
tomorrow
we will talk
he had said
she lies there
on her bed
on her side
staring hard
other thoughts
pushed aside
her mother
is downstairs
finishing
the washing
the dinner
is cooking
her brother's
in his room
listening
to Elvis
she can hear
the LP
being played
too loudly
she moves on
to her back
staring at
the ceiling
trying to
cope with this
inner love
sick feeling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem