April 23: Untitled (#NaPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 #GloPoWriMo #Poetry)



The simple joy of waking up in bed,

sensing him leaving in silent steps,

feeling the warmth where he curled,

hearing him switching on the kettle,

gathering cups of best bone china,

smelling the coffee he deftly served

as he softly whistled rise and shine,

is what I miss the most. Now I breathe

in laboured chaos, turbulence inside

ravaging my lungs, cursing, doubting

why the world should go on turning,

remembering how we kissed and hugged

others on that luxury cruise, scented air

in our noses, on our skin, blissfully sighing,

dancing until we’re exhausted. That was

two weeks ago, when he was eighty-three.

My nurse sheds a tear, listening, her

gloved hands adjusting my ventilator.


(Image: “The Cruising Edition Of The Creepiest, Most Haunted Ships At Sea“, Cruise.co.uk)


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