Waning Time
this waning moon resembles a sliver of hope dimly lit
where the millesimal of memories of you descend over me
as i stand at your grave in remembrance this day
at the juncture of life as it's fading in the shadows of death
whereas a tear has more momentum than the pendulum
of the clock as it falters in slow motion a repetitive beat
as one watches each struggled breath from a chest rest
before the next rise that never comes when bereft of life
wary through tear filled eyes at the crux of time
one watches the stillness of silence in the voids
through the facets of light refracting back
a multitude of hands checking for a pulse
as they note the very second life succumbed
a walk down the long passageway past rooms
with a thousand doors closed to your muffled screams
somehow arriving home as if guided perhaps by disbelief
with no recollection of how you even got there
yet you feel the same emptiness now as then
in the quickened pulse as memories open mind's doors
to the countless moments you can never forget
January 22, 2020
*in honor of what would have been my mom's 80th birthday this day, she passed at 55....
melding muses contest
sponsored by Craig Cornish
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2020
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