the high cost of dying (part 2)
what is the
price of a life
we wonder
as we wait
I hold her
hand in mine
bruised and fragile
she smiles sweetly
I can't tell her
her months of care
might not be paid
what is the cost
of this weight
on my shoulders
light compared
to her
suffering
I smile back
hoping she can't
see the pain
in my eyes
I'm tired
I think
planning my lie
brushing her hair
out of her eyes
caressing her forehead
she closes her eyes
I rub her cheek
with the back
of my fingers
she captures
my fingers with
her cheek
her skin
soft and warm
I rest my head
close my eyes
--Thomas R. Thomas
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