Struck

In the midst of glib chatter

loneliness struck;

a sharp arrow

travelling from your eye

to my heart.

In the midst of making love,

fear struck;

a poke, a nudge

threatening to tear apart

my existence.

In the midst of balloons and confetti,

joy struck;

the colours, the mirth,

the sheer gaiety,

I could not resist.

In the midst of antiseptic and blood,

many a scream struck;

the only vent

to the pain
and my impatience.

In the midst of sirens and debris,

love struck;

the memory of tomorrow,

as scary, lonely

and joyful,
as I.