Only
this morning, my mother died
as I sat holding her hand.
Her eyes were shut tight, her mouth wide
Only this morning, my mother died
I watched her chest heave; the oxygen tried
to fill up her lungs, as nature had planned.
Only this morning, my mother died
as I sat holding her hand.
2 comments:
Compact and effective. This sneaks up on you and leaves you sober and stunned.
Even remaining as closely as we can does not change the situation
.I was. there with my mom in 1995..Your poem speaks it all.
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