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This poetry remains the property of the author, Christy Ann Martine. No part should be reproduced in any form without written consent from Christy. Contact



Your eyes follow the faded yellow curtains
as they move like floating angels;
Propelled by the warm summer current.

Years of wisdom etched upon your face,
as you lie now so stilly in the old pine bed.
The one that I carved for our wedding day,
nearly five decades ago.

In your small hand you hold a delicate white lily;
Picked from the prized garden
you so carefully tended to
until you no longer had the strength.

I listen to the clock,
ticking back and forth,
As it hangs on the wall in the kitchen
where you worked so diligently;
Sweet aromas filling the air,
turning a house into a home.

Your hand touches mine
but no words are spoken between us.
The sorrow in your eyes speaks volumes,
Regret of time wasted , days left unappreciated,
Seasons changing swiftly, life drifting forward

You smile now in a final attempt to reassure me
But it's too late now,
The flower falls from your hand,
Life passes my love and I will miss you.