[Critique Group 1] Sally's September submission

[Sally Rosenthal]

I need some help with coming up with a title.  Any suggestions?

 

 

 

 

Gaunt beyond his seventy-seven years,

My dying father sleeps, sedated,

Beneath crisp white sheets and blankets

on a bed from which he will never rise.

 

Kidney cancer has invaded nearby organs

And claimed his bloodstream as its transport

Around his skeletal body that lingers

on the brink of a new century. 

 

Outside the icy hospice window,

Dusk falls on the final day of a century

And tucks its comfort tenderly

Around my father in his remaining hours.

 

No stranger to floating through the sky

With an army parachute down

To the chaos and carnage of Normandy's beaches,

He survived to lose this universal battle.

His imminent journey will, I hope,

Be gentler and more peaceful

As his soul transcends time and ether

While, sadly, I release his hand.

 

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