Keep His Dinner Warm

I’ll keep his dinner warm,

while he’s away,

called into work again.

He’ll come home with a

weary expression on a tired face.

He’ll thank me,

and kiss my cheek,

but it didn’t go well,

and he can’t bring himself to eat.

 

He’s always on call.

I am too.

For him, a car crash calls him to work.

For me, a child gets kicked out of home.

 

He’ll get up in the night

to wash his hands again.

There’s no blood on them,

but he can see something.

I wish he’d realize

it’s not his fault.

I bet he wishes

I wouldn’t blame myself

when we fail,

because we both fail sometimes.

We can’t save all of them.

Sometimes, the wounds are too deep.

Sometimes, they waited too long.

Sometimes, they don’t want to live.

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