sleep well

there is no where
do we go from here, for him.
the mechanical bed
pushing him
upright to see
who comes and goes,
the television
muted but bright as
the sun
he used to lie under,
stretched
before the ocean,
the sand, the years
behind and before him.
you can only be there,
say little,
grip his hand, kiss
his head
and say sleep well
when you leave,
sleep well.