i know, i know

there are

sounds i will know and remember

even on

the last

of day of my life,

lying

in the bed that holds me.

the creak

of the stairs as you

carry up

tea,

the wind rattling the shutter

that was never

fixed.

the plumbing, each pipe

an out of tune

instrument.

a beginners blow into

a tuba.

the neighbor's dog barking

at the mailman,

children

on the street, noisy crows.

the sound the bed makes

when you

sit beside me.

your sigh,

as you take my hand,

saying,

i know, i know.