A friend is dying...
Behind closed curtains,
Lying in swaddling clothes,
Bald as a baby, gaunt,
A yellow tinge encircled
Your face, halo-like.
I came with three books,
Short stories and poems,
Small bites of being human,
But you said you'd had enough;
You also whispered that the
Cancer had spread, that, that,
You'd been given a few more weeks
To consider the nature of things,
Closer visitors came so I vacated
My time to them and left you
Without saying anything to help.
This morning I thought of you
And the things I didn't say or do;
In my kitchen a fly landed on a net curtain,
Smug it sat, cleaning its wings, just waiting to be
Swatted.
I'm in the lounge now. And the fly?
It's still buzzing around in the kitchen.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 591 times
Written on 2016-06-17 at 10:17
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For Brian
I saw you yesterdayBehind closed curtains,
Lying in swaddling clothes,
Bald as a baby, gaunt,
A yellow tinge encircled
Your face, halo-like.
I came with three books,
Short stories and poems,
Small bites of being human,
But you said you'd had enough;
You also whispered that the
Cancer had spread, that, that,
You'd been given a few more weeks
To consider the nature of things,
Closer visitors came so I vacated
My time to them and left you
Without saying anything to help.
This morning I thought of you
And the things I didn't say or do;
In my kitchen a fly landed on a net curtain,
Smug it sat, cleaning its wings, just waiting to be
Swatted.
I'm in the lounge now. And the fly?
It's still buzzing around in the kitchen.
Poetry by Christopher Fernie
Read 591 times
Written on 2016-06-17 at 10:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Lawrence Beck |
