He looks so much himself,
lying back on the pillow, eyes closed,
as if he was resting at home
in his own bed, on his own pillow —
which he is. I brought it from home, that pillow.
He breathes evenly, looks peaceful,
his head slightly turned to the side.
The blankets are up to his shoulders,
his arms tucked in; you'd never know
all was not well with this sweet old man.
On impulse I lean over and gently kiss his cheek.
'I just can't resist kissing you sometimes,'
I say. Perhaps he hears.
This made my eyes water, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteRosemary, this breaks my heart. It is so hard sometimes....when one loves someone.....Peace to you.
ReplyDeleteHow poignant and truly beautiful, I echo the above sentiments, peace to you.
ReplyDeleteOh so wonderful, Rosemary! To love and be loved. The bond cemented grows stronger by the day!
ReplyDeleteHank
Somehow the bond of love is stronger than all the things that tear and claw at it--even dementia and death. This is a poignant poem.
ReplyDeleteWhirling with Jane Kenyon
This is so tender and touching, Rosemary. Heartbreaking and wonderful, love is, sometimes both at the same time. He is so blessed to be so loved. As are you, kiddo! Sending you strength to walk this section of the highway.
ReplyDeleteAll I can say is, he knows and would say the same if he were able to.
ReplyDeleteIt's so nice that you took his own pillow because I'm sure he feels its comfort.
Beautifully, sad and lovely.
Such a touching and heart wrenching write--beautifully done---
ReplyDeleteSo beautifully touching... it brought tears to my eyes, a pang to my heart.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sweet poem.
ReplyDeleteThis touched me deep down. I'm leaky all around my eyes and my heart hurts.
ReplyDeleteThis is so sad and sweet, and just heartbreaking.
ReplyDelete"eyes closed,
ReplyDeleteas if he was resting at home
in his own bed, on his own pillow —
which he is. I brought it from home, the pillow."
Like a microcosm or allegory of what caring is...
Beautiful...
ReplyDelete