A Son at Gretl's Bedside

Cherry

By Ewan

Tue, 14 May 2024
  • 575 reads
4 comments
 

Because it’s dark in here,
I can’t see to read
your face.

      I know that you’re close,
    you still wear the same
           perfume.

I know you’re still alive,
 because I can hear you
   breathing.

In, out.
In. Out
In…

I know you will not speak,
because you are lost in
darkwood.

I know you will not leave,
    Not yet, until you find him who was
        lost too.

I will hold your hand
 while you track breadcrumbs until...
    It’s over.

Certificate U
Poem
Not Quite Good Enough
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by Di_Hard on

More, lots more than Good Enough

 

Submitted by Ewan on

  It's very kind of you to say so.

The title of the collection is only half-meant, I suppose. I do put things here that don't seem to fit anywhere else, I might want to fiddle with later (but rarely do) and yes, some that really aren't good enough.

It's always good to look back at things that didn't quite work. I'm glad you thought this one did.

E x

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

A held hand gives much comfort that will never be known, and the thoughts  of the one unable to communicate are unknown, though sometimes a surprising glimpse can come of comfortable silent ruminations, dreams. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Ewan on

  about both my parents deaths with (not from) Alzheimer's is really little more than therapy, I suppose. Perhaps that's why I judge pieces "inspired" by them a little more harshly.
Anyway, thank you for reading and commenting. Touch is important and the benefit travels in both directions.

Author Page at the 'Zon