Stale Deceit

The weeping willow lies 

dormant above me there,

close enough for me to touch

but I don’t dare.

There is no breeze nudging a bristle

Or any of my hair.

I came here seeking peace

Somewhere atop the mountain air,

But nature has other ideas.

Her presence is absent here.

The image is blurred and wiped clean

thanks to the blaring light striking my lids

as I’m rolled back out the double doors

marked “Surgical Room 1”.