I look over at his slackened
jaw and thankfully hear a gentle
rhythm to his breathing, sweat
glistening on his brow from a
journey he alone must take, even
though he has never left his bed.
I sit in my own solitude, a twilight
room hides my smile, with so much
time to reminisce when laughter and
passion filled us both to
Winding roads of reckless abandon
bringing us to this moment, stopping
us in our tracks, catching us between
gnarly jaws of life and death.
The doctor emerges, slicing through my
morose, interrupting a voyage at the same
time becoming villain in his quest of
Reaching for his sleep once more, he
grimaces to find the niche his bed has
to offer, wishing I could own his pain
for once, praying his shoulders continue
to bear the weight of getting old.