The Doctor Said
There's nothing we can do, the doctor said!
It was December, nineteen-seventy.
At once, those words exploded in my head
and pierced my heart- which broke in agony.
How could this be- she's much too young to die
at fifty-four, and I, just thirty-two?
Convulsed in tears, I begged the question, why-
please, doctor, tell me, please- this is not true!
To lymph nodes, bones- the killer-cancer crept-
too late for surgery or chemo now.
The doctor's sad, dark eyes said, please accept
this news I give- which we can't disavow.
She passed away late summer, the next year;
those long nine months- such painful reveries.
Though, forty-nine years now- I still hold dear
my loved, missed Mom- in dusty memories.
July 31, 2020
Contest: Dusty Old Memories
Sponsor: Constance La France
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2020
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