Haifloof #30
curled and tucked, they lie
paws to hands and fur to skin
slumbering in bliss
Coping
we cry until dawn
when the sunshine brings relief
from losses and grief
The Stare
His thousand yard stare
watched the gathering muses
as words didn’t come
The Lay
I’m finding my way
through a meandering day
without much to say
June
June slips over us
whispering, summer, winter
come, visit us now
Kisses
Sweet memories kiss
Time holds me enthralled and warm
I say, I miss you
The Habit
It started after the doctors declared his death was probably less than six weeks away and recommended that he be placed in hospice. Family members were called, rushing home from around the world.
Their visits perked him up. The doctors reversed themselves after three months, returning the ninety-eight year old to a nursing home. That’s when he began his habit.
Every night at seven, he would prepare for bed by walking around his bed, straightening the blankets and pillows. Then he folded the blankets back, adjusted the pillows, and circled the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles. His process consumed about two hours.
Nobody complained. How could they? It was good for a man of his age to be active, even if his habits mystified everyone. After all, if they reached his age, who knew what their habits would be?
To Where
You stare beyond me
to where, I can’t know or see
But I wish I knew