Hospice Heart

time so ill used, often  abused, or broken
time neglected,  perhaps  time rejected
time doesn't heal everything

i read a poem while she lay in  bed
a bed that now has become a place that gives her no choice
some days, a  bed that gives her no voice
wondering, am i there for her, or myself
both i pray

her personality has always been a bright light
already i've learned she's better at dying than i've ever been at living
folks like her will always make me try harder, did i do everything i could
learning to dig deeper each time
it's never been easy, and i wouldn't have it any other way

from a notebook binder, she listens to the
words that stumble from my mouth
such a  lady, so practical and real
when i finish, she finds rest, and sleeps

i know lots of people like me
blessed to work with them daily
together we are often one
when i close my eyes to dream, i think by now...
they must have about a million friends in heaven

i'm not sure anymore
did i choose to do this, or did it me
wonder how many of us ask that question
maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it's not important
in our hearts, it's time well spent