Hospital Waiting Room

I'm here alone
to sit by the window,
watch the rain, and wait.

Guardian of your valuables
your watch with its scratched leather strap,
the wedding band
I can spin on my thumb,
a battered wallet you've owned for years.

Inside, behind the license and photos
an old torn sketch of mine,  
a peace symbol drawn within a heart
an apology
for some regret we've both forgotten.
And long strands of my hair,
tied and folded in a cellophane wrapper.

When you saw the piles of hair
on the floor
your eyes looked like mine do
now, in the glass
while the rain streams down
and everything blurs.