Linda Smith Poet I do not know?

Gavin's Flight

Looking down I see,
so many struggling,
against time, against odds.
I feel free,
almost floating,
comfortable, like flannel.

I watch them closely,
straining to see past.
Why are they so diligent?
Why the stress?
That must be someone important for so many.

I hear orders shouted from the strain.
Strange words, all new to me.
Intubate, oxygentate, defibrillate,
Everybody in a rush.
I don't understand.
I float, still farther away.

Then I see her.
She has a red coat,
just like mom, 
and the same brown hair.
I think I can smell her perfume.
Oh so sweet, like mommy's too.,

Why is she crying?
I can barely hear her whispers,,,
"Please,God, no!  Take me instead.,
Just let him live, Please God.
Not my little Gavin."

I now see the tear streaked face,
of the woman who always loved me.
Rocked and soothed me.
The same face I waved goodby to 
as I stepped into the street.
Then her face fades
into the bright white light.

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