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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1251310
A loved-one's return at the moment of death.
The wonder is
That still I'm waiting
For his long-gone smile
To find me.
Though I can't remember how
The old song goes,
I am quite happy
As I hum the tune...
Tonight, and then the great beyond...

He calls!
The nightmoth trembles
Like the breaths
I try to take,
Drifts forward softly
Like the moon
Till laughter dribbles down my chin,
Gives me the shivers,
Catches at my sad old heart.

See how I'm waiting
Still to give him
What he could not ask--
My years in hands,
And here I am,
Wrapped up in paper
And my last goodbyes.

So tread you quiet,
Oh, my daughter's daughter,
Down to watch
When once I sleep.
Look through the window
And you'll see him,
Like lost youth,
Traverse the sidewalk,
Stir the bushes--
See he is no ghost!
And mark his eyes
As he leans over,
Trace their tired lines
When not quite touching
More than hope
My lost love turns by ends
His dimpled mouth
And brushes, soft on soft,
His sweet remembrance
Of a kiss--
Don't try to wake me,
Or be frightened
When I do not stir again.
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