the dying man
whispers his regrets to the attending
nurse.
a stranger, at best,
seeing him
to the other side of this
madness.
I wish, he says, I wish, struggling
to breathe,
to get out
the words caught in his heart,
his throat,
hardly able to cough or free
himself as he drowns
in his see within.
I wish, he says, pulling her
closer,
his hand reaching out to
touch her.
I wish I had loved more.
he says. and not lived the life
I did.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment