Her Immortal Sadness
There is no drama in a robot’s day.
Often - I saw her through an open doorway,
practical, driven, and pre-programmed,
simply staring, in a shaft of filtered sunlight-
robotic and never choosing, her haloed hair
and, sometimes, anything including, how to walk,
or, her expressions, so often - caught a whiff of bourbon.
We lose surprise in what’s predictable;
a bunch of red plastic roses on a round table.
Always, I imagined that she choked back tears
but never saw them, and she never moved position.
We press the buttons and the duties execute themselves.
Was that a glimpse I caught of her immortal sadness?
Mechanical, dependable - a sodden handkerchief,
wrung in tribute to her lost love.
Suzanne Delaney is a retired Registered Nurse. Born in Tasmania, Australia she is now residing in North Carolina, USA. She has a fond passion for writing poetry, creating mixed media collages, and for traveling.