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Bernadette Rushfirth Poem
I listen to the beat, the beat of a heart,
each tender thud sounding so far apart.
Will he awake, or will he be still,
we all know this illness can kill.
He used to be so happy, so from gloom,
if only our love would help him bloom.
He'll break the shell and emerge with wings,
his body wont fight but drawn to the light
His spirit will rise with all pure thoughts,
never again will he be distraught.
Our love will never die, always be pure,
how long will he last? no-one is sure.
life is everything, that's what he used to say,
only yesterday did it change to 'I'll be gone someday'.
We'll pray everynight, always remember,
those few nights in mid December.
We'll visist the church, kneel by the grave,
tears to be shed, flowers to be laid.
All by the loving one's who cared the most,
Easter to christmas, cutting the roast.
Deep in our souls, the bottom of our hearts,
we all loved him to bits, right from the start.
Copyright © Bernadette Rushfirth | Year Posted 2009
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