Tuesday, March 31, 2015

"Death the leveller"

Poem Beside Your Hospital Bed.                                               


Your face,

that I loved,

has changed so completely

that I already know

our time is gone.


And as dying

like a sandstorm

rearranges your features,

I am useless;

a cripple of words.


So if the winds in your head

will carry the smallest breath

of what I am saying, father:

let it be that

my proud years are tatters here;

I love you.

No comments: