An old woman is
dying on her bed.
Her husband is sitting
by her side, clasping
her hand with his wrinkled
hands and through the open
window a breeze slinks in
and embraces
the couple as the
day is dying fast.
But neither of them
notices these. It isn’t
worth admiring the
beauty of sunset
nor grumble to the
cold embrace of the
wind—not this time though.
The old woman smiles.
To her husband,
As if she’s not going
To die. Just having
a deep slumber. “Do you
You think we’ll meet again?”
She asks. “In an afterlife,
I mean.” He nods and
says “Yes, we will,” not
because he’s certain.
But it’s kind of a good
prospect to hear.
“Don’t forget me darling,”
she says and shuts her eyes,
and there are tears sliding
Down her cheeks. The husband
waits, though he knows she won’t
wake up again. “I
won’t forget you, my love.”
He bends and kisses
his wife. He barely
notices the tears on
his cheeks. Now he
just has to wait.
He only wishes the waiting
won’t be long.
