Saturday, October 13, 2018

day SIX HUNDRED and THIRTY TWO

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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