Drowsy

drowsy, that is the next word
chosen by Dorothy, at the last day
of her stay in ward 9

six years of cancer she finally gets used
to slow death
i know that the pain is terrible but
she is finally tired showing the portraits
of her face in pain
many faces of agony

until the last day comes
she does not know what to say anymore

she embraces silence
death is no longer strange
she has it
piece by piece like a display
of her jewelries
from time to time sold
to sympathetic buyers
some friends who
know her &
love her for a time

when death comes
that moment
she is extremely
beautiful

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!