What I Miss Most

His crooked smile
That special look that said he loves me
The touch of his hands on my skin
Our kiss goodnight

His laugh
Rolling his eyes at my puns
Hogging the remote
To guard the History channel

His bedroom-blue eyes
Arms embracing me in sleep
Feeling his chest rise and fall
His weight on the bed

Morning coffee made just right
Sharing the daily paper
Admiring his legs
While he dressed for work

Nights at our cottage
Huddled together under a quilt
Watching meteor showers
Peaceful and content

My self-taught handyman
My knight in shining armour
Protector from spiders
And things that go bump in the night

His key in the door
At the end of the day
His hand in mine
Day after day after day after day

Being complete

Requiem

I watch you

wasting into baggy skin

pointed bones

in place of full breasts

wide hips

strong arms

that used to cradle me

You lie

in your hospital bed

white face whiter

than hospital sheets

Pain lines replace

the crows-feet

(that you claimed added character)

I chase you

down labyrinth tunnels

of mists and floating figures

always one step behind

never close enough

to catch your pain

I hold you

in loving arms

the way a mother holds her child

the way a woman-child holds

her dying mother

Note: My poem "Requiem" was originally published, in a slightly different format, in "Solstice 2: The Truth and Fictions of Ageing", edited by A. Burke. ISBN 0-920689-06-X

Little did I know when I wrote that poem in 1989 that my mother's death in 2005 would so closely follow the lines I wrote. Was it a poem-premonition?

The Bridge

It's peaceful on the bridge
Watching water wash over polished stones.
See the tadpoles?
Hear the mermaids calling me?
Please let me go.

Note: This short poem (140 characters or less) was inspired by Stony River's 'Microfiction Monday' picture of an older couple standing on a bridge, looking down at the water. The picture seemed melancholy to me, suggesting that perhaps the couple was losing their fight against dementia. Be sure to check out Stony River (listed in my blogroll) for guidelines to Microfiction Monday.

I Forgot

I forgot how he looks in clothes that fit his skin
How handsome he is in a tux
I forgot that only yesterday
He was young and healthy and we laughed
A lot
I remember only
That I love him
Have always loved him
Will always love him
Even when skin and bones and blood
Are offered in fire
To the gods