In the deathwatches

Bent over bedside fearfully, incredulously

in the long dark deathwatches of a hot night

holding his hand beside a good son.

Gnawed by uncertainty and anxiety

straining and listening for that barely perceptible

last tiny  invisible wisp of life,

ever more laboured and fainter, difficult to discern

until it finally ceased as he peacefully slipped away

while the nightingale sang still.


Hope forgiving kind arms are open, waiting

as the key turns in the gate lock.





◄ Twisted


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Stephen Gospage

Thu 7th Jul 2022 17:19

A sensitive, moving poem, Jennifer.

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jennifer Malden

Thu 7th Jul 2022 07:33

Thanks Frederick, Holden and Bethany for the likes. Glad you understood. Jennifer

Bethany Sallis

Thu 7th Jul 2022 00:16

so very powerful Jennifer and so very much enjoyed thank you

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