I know that you must leave me
And I dread that coming day
But I want you to be peaceful
And rest without pain and fear
To lie in that bed for endless hours
And be a prisoner of that dreadful disease
That has crawled up your back
And into the very life giving marrow of your spine
Is a cruelty that is not deserved
I want to scoop you up in my arms
And take you for a ride
To see the waves breaking on the beach
Or the flowers blooming in the park
But it won't happen
You will take your drugs and sleep tonight
I will lie and listen to you breath
And hope that tonight is not the night
When you must leave
5 comments:
Sweet darling girl, such a beautiful poem, so sad, so heartbreaking, and so true.
Hugs love and kisses to you both Banjo xxx
You will be strong I just know it.
You will still call his name and he will still answer.
Judy
Indie, That's a beautifully sad poem.
And here's some Stratford dude with thoughts almost as timeless. A friend I've since lost contact with gave them to me on our wedding day:
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
Will Shakespeare, Sonnet 116
Oh, dear friend! I love you both.
And Judy is so very right!
xoxoxo sdb
Elizabeth Barrett Browning also said it ...
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death. "
Hang in there, dear friend ... love him, as I know he must love you ...
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