The Miracle of Sleep

THE MIRACLE OF SLEEP
In Loving Memory of
Patricia JZH Forman
December 1, 1956 – November 4, 2008

You slept in my arms last night,
And I kissed the top of your head;
I felt on my chest your small sleep smile,
Did you feel me laying beside you in bed?

As I drifted in your soft fresh scent
Your gentle breathing tickled on my chest;
But our hearts beating in compliment to each other,
That is what I think felt the best.

Your hands lay there on my stomach,
And the warmth contrasted with the cool sheet;
I had to smile to myself as I remembered
How earlier I rubbed so much to warm your feet.

The weight of your leg felt so natural
As it pressed heavily down on my thigh:
Finally, I felt again contentment and at peace,
And you moved slightly as I let out a sigh.

But this morning the miracle evaporated from my life,
When I woke and your face I expected to see;
And I knew you watched over me from so far, far away;
I would swear last night was real, yet how could that be?

c. January 11, 2009
Matthew E. Forman
Murfreesboro, TN
Published Collage. Ed. Jaz Gray. Middle Tennessee State University. Spring (April), 2010.

Tears

TEARS

A heart attack!
Dear God, not
mine, though I would
rather that it be.
What do I do if
He takes her
from me?
Blockage, calcium,
I thought women her age
were supposed to take
extra. It’s supposed
to be helpful for the bones; it
may just kill her.
“Sir? Is this your wife?”
A nurse?
“The doctor is waiting for you, she’s all done.
She’ll be fine, right this way.”
On my face
tears.

Matthew E. Forman
October 16, 2008
Murfreesboro, TN

One Man

One Man

One man speaks his mind, an opinion of dissension,
And is branded a problem, someone bucking the system.

One man tells another how he feels it should be,
Word gets around and now he is fighting authority.
One man laughs out loud at a joke with a friend,
Laughter heard by passersby, rumors start and don’t end.

One man now being told of the trouble he caused,
Tries to keep from sight, stories continue without pause.

One man sits and reflects on why this has to be,
Unable to understand, “Why can’t they just ask me?”

The rumors never cease, the gulf continues to grow,
Only close friends can see the pain one man will know.

Matthew E. Forman
Collected Whispers. The International Library of Poetry, Owings Mills, MD. Page 1.