Slow man you have swum out too far
Your face a scowl, eyes a fierce stare
No more questions to the sweet girls
Who look after you, your carers
A pretty garden, people said
A small room, a bed, sink and chairs
Photos. The air nursing home thick
We hold hands in the dark, for hours
Each morning brings the same blue gaze
Eyes from a dead face that express
Anger that you cannot come back
Slow man you have swum out too far
1 comment:
This is my mum dying. Made me cry.
Kath
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