Deathbed
A bed half eaten by termites
She lay on, like her ancestors
Before her, ripe of age
A leaf that had been dried
Between pages yellowed with age
Threatening to fall apart
At the slightest feel.
Her eyes no longer
Windows to her soul
The black holes they were
From which nothing escaped.
She breathed day and night
To the dismay of her children
Who stood by her bedside
Doing nothing but helplessly sigh
Even the tattered blanket
Seemed to mock her
When pulled over her head
Let her scrawny feet peep out
The wait seemed endless
Making all wonder
Was it death refusing to claim her?
Or her refusing to quit?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
