Your hand in my hand
Like a reticent child putting on
Winter mittens
Made of old, weathered parchment.
Sitting here
Dying here
In this soulless intensive care department
As the sorrow cries
And tears so hot they’re dry
And fragile remnants of hope die
And like a bird
I want to fly
Far away
From here.
From here.

Is that your heart I hear?
Or is it some medical mechanism
I don’t know what’s louder
the life support technology
or the sterile lack of humanism.
But your hand is in my hand
You are mine
This cameo moment in time
This desperation on a lifeline
All those times I thought we’d be fine.
All those times
And we’re not, now.

But here we are
Saying our last goodbyes
The windows to your soul
Are sleeping, peaceful, closed
The eyes so blue
That used to shine in a brilliant, sapphire hue.
Do you dream, my darling?
Is your world filled with timeless memories?
Fleeting whispers of the things we used to do.
Or am I dreaming?
Am i holding onto you
When I know your soul is ready
drifting down the final avenue
drifting
drifting

So goodbye darling
I will let you go
Goodbye darling
Its time now
I know
I know
I know.

©2019 Sarah Drury