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Waiting And Waiting With No Respite

Pain of preparing for loss

By Amelia MoorePublished 4 months ago 1 min read

Death must have woken up late today

I still feel his presence, creeping near.

Small hands clutch mine as we wait for him,

Tight fingers shaking on the pages, here.

Rows of letters blur in my eyes, my voice,

A small chest rattles with its slow breaths

Cruelly, the book’s poor storyline,

Throws away my chance to forget Death’s trek.

I wait, perhaps if we read a little longer,

On this armchair by a fire, half-dead,

No deity will come here for my son-- I won’t have to say sorry yet.

love poemsheartbreak

About the Creator

Amelia Moore

17-year-old writer who hopes to write stories for a living someday-- failing that, I'd like to become a mermaid.

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (4)

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  • Randy Wayne Jellison-Knock4 months ago

    The worst horror & heartbreak of any parent, viscerally captured in eleven meager lines.

  • Deasun T. Smyth4 months ago

    O, this was so good. Well done.

  • JBaz4 months ago

    Wonderful and meaningful

  • Paul Stewart4 months ago

    Amelia, this is penned so beautfully, but heartbreaking! Such a powerful piece!

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