at life shared with someone else’s kin.
You imagine your parents naming you.
Daesyn will be her name. The beloved;
All while texting and typing their lives away.
night moves on
thinking of you
trees stand still
a bird sings alone
Photo by Wendi Schneider
soon the washing will dry
tea towels will crinkle
fabrics will crimple
shirts will be naturally ironed
soon the sun will dry the washing
The summer & the winter will pass,
just as the good & the bad will pass.
Be like the many flowers in spring,
or the colourful trees in autumn.
Wear hope like a cashmere scarf
around your neck
to remind you that
we will all go back to mossy mud.
Then live your life.
full of something light,
she dances away,
through the night,
floating into the sea.
a soft lavender field moves in the breeze
a glass of wine for you
a bottle of apple cider for you
a gin and yuzu for you
a bottle of craft beer for you
a sweet way to end a long summer’s day
Head bowed. Sitting. Waiting. The clock ticks loudly. Time can never be fled from even in death.
The smell of anti-bacterial solution numbs the senses and leaves a sense of sadness in one’s thoughts.
Sitting tensely. Waiting. Flatlining beeps and screams of urgency. Head moves skyward.
Anguish grips the chest. A knowing that this is the end. Numb feelings and recollections of little things about that face.
Waiting for answers. They never come. Time passes. Fatigue sets into her bones. A person arrives. Trepidation increases. Waiting for her world to shatter. Knowing sadness. Overthinking it all.
The person says, “Come with me…”
The silence between them. Phantoms wait for sadness to come so that they can feed and devour the stench of heartache.
One look. He is not there, yet a body on the bed stays still. Sheets of white. Cold flesh. Death has come to her love.
Her world softens as a kind hand touches skin. Even now she feels love. “You will get through this…” She knows she will, but what of her love?