His Time: A Poem

Carry on Tuesday #60
Prompt: First line of “The Soldier” by Rupert Brooke:
“If I should die think only this of me”:

His Time
Her hand cups his cheek wrinkled,
.....weathered by worry,
.....whitened with pain.
Trembling, his worn hand covers
.....hers, whispering soft:
“If I should die....”

She parts her lips to take breath,
.....to speak against his words,
but his one glance stills her speaking--
.....as no one else's could.
He pulls air in hard, efforted,
.....then breathes out shallow,
“think only this of me....”

Refusing, she shakes her head side to side,
.....painstaking, her eyes shutting him out,
.....her mouth folded thin in negation.

His hand on hers loosens,
.....relaxes,
.....falls back to pale blue sheets.
His eyes close half,
.....his final breath easing out
.....of worn lungs as his heart silences.

Sucking in panicked breath,
she bends over him, both hands curving to his
.....beloved face,
.....the face slack with sleep beside her each night,
.....the face waking beside her each dawn--

for forty-eight years.

Copyright 2010 by Susanne Barrett

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