Tomorrow s Peace

Last days of summer sunshine, lost years of aimless youth,
As old age crept and stole our eyes, then slowly took us, tooth by tooth.
I'll never see another spring, or feel the cold that winter brings.
I'll never see your face again, or hear your voice (but not listen...)

No tears are left inside to cry. No voice. Dry throat. A sorry sigh.
No breath to say the words, I know, I never said enough. Or tried.
Too late. It's much too late... You wait. You smile so patiently
And then you gently squeeze and hold my hand.
"Your skin's so cold", I hear you say. “Another blanket? Some tea? Sam?”
But wheezing softly, try, as I may, no whisper here, there's only breeze,
Stale air, as I exhale a weakly breath, the gentle rustling leaves of trees.

I want to say so much, but now, my lips just tremble,
"Are you in pain?" I close my eyes. I can’t complain.
I feel your touch, your soft grip slackens – or is it me?
You mop my brow, moisten dry lips. "Don't get distressed.
You're feeling tired. Just get some rest. A good night's sleep is all you need.
Tomorrow, you'll be better. Just wait and see."

Dull heart. A beat. Another breath.They're part of life we never miss,
Like you, throughout it all, without a thought. A farewell kiss.
Always there, we’ll meet again, until they're failing and then you lie
Distraught and blankly stare at the ceiling, bare, like my brain. Nothing inside.
No view. No words. No feelings. And thoughts are rare. Do I care less?
Unending pain. Impending death. The relentless march with every breath.
Just one more now or maybe two. You count them out. Like knots on string.
You know I only want to say one thing, "I love you more than anything".

You're going now. You'd like to stay. But nurse is here.
So you're just in the way. What’s that you say? I didn’t hear…
Oh OK, "Tomorrow. Rest now. I love you."
Tomorrow. Yes. I'll say it then.
My mind says words, that can't be heard
And my hand twitches a wave, that can't be seen.
"Goodbye, my love, I'll always love you, till the day I die".

The doctors said it was a painless death. He died in his sleep, not even a peep.
No gasp. No words. No breath. No scream or shout. No jump or leap.
Just the screen that beeped and whined out loud, waking all around him - dead.
So he died, as they said, peacefully, with his family beside him, surrounding his bed.

Cremated and feted on the day, remembered fondly, as they say.
A day to be celebrated - missed – not greatly loved, but at least not hated.
Gone, but not entirely forgotten. Shoved ungratefully into a cheap wooden box
And kissed one last time on the lid of the coffin, as the clock struck eleven,
By a graceful widow, dressed all in black, as beautiful as the day of her wedding.