overA Poem by m.s.earlymy grandfather's final momentsyour breathing had the grace of a grand mal, gagging, swallowing your tongue; barely whispering and choked, fighting and losing. then your eyes rolled back and i heard your lungs empty, the essence that made you divine was a wisp, hovered above you, left us crying, your mouth still open. she came as if she'd been waiting, she never looked at us, "he's gone", i heard her say. i remember how my eyes felt following her as she went to you. her fingers touched your eye lids and closed them forever.
© 2014 m.s.earlyReviews
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11 Reviews Added on January 12, 2014 Last Updated on January 12, 2014 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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