bare trees stand in the morning stillness as
silent watchers, empty, cold air fills the gaps
between the branches and withering leaves
a tender cry cuts past the bedroom door
his comfort rushes to her
hands desperate but tainted with selfishness

a daughter bundled in wrath, braces for the trudge ahead

sideways he staggers one foot, and then the other
thump, thump, and THUMP
the veil unravels, before the bathroom mirror
a man caught between fury and shame

he sees her frail blanket, and can only reach for more