Ashen-ed skin,
A delicate hand to touch,
Veined, bruised, and pained.
Senses unfold,
Scent of sweet peony, mixed of
Morphine, sweat and uncertainty.
One room,
Telling one life’s story:
Beginning – middle – end.
“If you could – “
A stupid question
“What would you do, right now?”
“Something spectacular!”
You shined.
“Tell me.”
“I’d walk downstairs,
And wash the dishes.”
Something clever.
Love this. Would question the use of capital letters on lines following commas, but I know some people just prefer it that way.
This reminds me of my current mantra - mundanity is king. It's what we all crave when life throws us sh*t storms.
Impressive. The words in the poem are good - "morphine, sweat and uncertainty", for instance - but the words you leave out are equally important.
This is quite appealing due to the sparseness of words. Those that have been used are done so to good effect.
Fab
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Stephanie Sampson
Wed 29th Sep 2021 02:36
Thank you all for your comments, for the kind words of encouragement and for some food for thought.
Yes Laura, absolutely - the mundanity of what is considered spectacular by the dying is what makes such a devastating situation cut deeper. But ushering with it a newfound appreciation of the small things, the little (sometimes resented) routines in life.
Thank you again.