Your late night text message,
non demanding of return
and the only question
that was there on the ill-lit and cracked slightly screen,
How Are You?,
sent in unassuming type, sent with only
the thought that I might reply,
at some point.
How was I? I didn’t know,
I could lie and reply back
that I was on top of the world,
whereas in reality I was flat on my back,
no pillow to soothe my head,
and felt as if the weight of the world was upon me.
I picked my words carefully as not to cause worry
in the kind soul’s mind, agonizing, unbearable
as my heart stopped a thousand times,
I wrote back a while later,
I am fine.
Ian D. Hall 2016