FINAL DAYS

FINAL DAYS

by Dreamy Poetess

The final days of the tenth were cruel,

I hated words, like “sarcoma.”

I watched you fight, a desperate duel,

And held your hand despite the drama.

The world insists on moving on,

The first dark week of November.

I washed the cup you drank upon,

And folded your clothes I can’t remember.

I browse your phone, then hold tight,

A moment that I can’t undo.

The silence in the dead of night

Is just your voice, cut right in two.

A woman grown, I should be strong,

I manage bills and face the day.

But in your house, where I belong,

I’m just a child who’s lost her way.

They say the grief will ebb and flow,

A hollow in the air you filled.

But how a missing heart can grow,

Is a new language, unfulfilled.

The chair you used is empty now,

A monument to what I lack.

I trace the memory of your brow,

And will the universe to bring you back.

(In loving memory of my mother, who bravely fought Sarcoma.)

Images, generated through Google Gemini.