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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #1304355
The last three days with my wife.
THOSE THREE DAYS



Those three days that I suffered,
It’s now eleven years,
Will be with me all my life,
Along with lurking tears.

My life partner was on a
Bed that I could not share.
Asking the doctor about
Her fate, I did not dare.

Thirty-three days she had been
Surviving on her hope.
But even to her it was
Then clear, there was no scope.

On the thirty-fourth day I
Told her “we must take leave.
We spent twenty five years, now
Your own path you must weave”.

On the thirty-fifth day she
Lost the power to speak,
Though by gestures, to convey
Something, she did so seek.

On the thirty-sixth, her heart
Could no longer endure.
She lost blood pressure and then
Suddenly was no more.

Can I forget those three days
That I spent with my wife,
Knowing full-well that, henceforth,
Lonely would be my life?



• Written in abcb, 7-6-7-6 format.

• Written for Kansaspoet Contest, "Invalid ItemOpen in new Window., Round 14



M C Gupta
12 August 2007
© Copyright 2007 Dr M C Gupta (mcgupta44 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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