It still runs over in her mind,
a pinwheel of fragmented moments.
A fall,
a phone call,
a hush,
a broken heart-
ed scream.
Tubes haphazardly slithered
from the gaping abyss of his mouth,
a terrible irony to his claustrophobic tendencies.
Patches of blood smeared on the floor
like a macabre quilt of desperation,
“I can’t live without you”
the beeping slowed,
the numbers dropped,
the tears descended
and he died.
He had bought little fishing nets,
for his trip to the cabin,
a family vacation with the grandkids,
the beginning of his retirement,
a few chapters away
from finalizing his latest novel,
painting wooden carvings of the kids,
finishing Murdoch Mysteries,
a fifty-year wedding anniversary.
A man with a million more dreams,
a million more memories waiting to be made.
We surrounded the hospital bed,
clutched, kissed, said goodbye.
Watched as his skin yellowed,
his face relaxed,
he looked small in that thin hospital blanket,
as he slipped away to somewhere
we wished to follow.
But it still runs over in her mind,
an album of marvelous memories
an Elvis duet,
a Roman history lesson,
a goofy expression,
a bed of sunflowers,
a ride on the lawn mower,
a bowl of extra cheesy macaroni,
a paint-stained shirt,
a full-bodied laugh,
the best man I ever knew.
2022 - Braaten
About the Creator
V. B. B
I'm a pessimistic amateur poet and writer that has had a few violent and dark things published. Also, I love to make lists of my favourite movies, t.v. shows, books, and music.
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.