PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Her frail arms shook as she lifted them up in a show of measurement, 

"I love you THIS much." 

Her smile spread across her face.

Yellow butter on bread that regressed to dough. 

She doesn't remember me as her granddaughter or my mother next to me as her daughter. 

But our routine of telling how we loved each other stayed in more mind. 

Her granite hair lays limp on the hospital-issued pillow,

There is no window in her cell- I mean room.

She doesn't notice. 

She doesn't notice much anymore. 

The family gathers around because her body is failing her.

Her mind went first, but now it's her body'a turn to dance with Death. 

We know these will be her last moments. 

Where she tells her family, who are strangers in her troubled mind. 

"I love you THIS much"

Her arms don't raise again,

She looks at them like she doesn't understand,

Piece by piece she is ending. 

But her serene smile stays. 

"I love you THIS much"

We say it in unison,

Everyone not hooked up to the beeping machines,

Our hands and arms held out from our bodies. 

We don't smile and she doesn't understand, 

But she nods like a crowd of sobbing people is normal, 

And her smile slides down, 

Slows down like her breathing. 

"I love you THIS much." 

It is a whisper and no one knows who said it,

We don't know if WE said it.

But it was said,

And she was gone.