THE LAST NIGHT

THE LAST NIGHT


I can’t forget the night that’s
Still fresh in memory.
I remember till this day
Its all details gory.

Almost thirteen years ago,
It was the blackest night
That I spent in hospital
With a foreboding fright.

She, my wife, had been in bed
For full thirty three days.
Of saving her were now left
No more medical ways.

Both of us were doctors and
We knew it rather well
That now her end was near, though
Doctors did not so tell.

That was the night when she lost
The power of her speech
Apparently, up to her
My voice, too, could not reach.

I kept on talking to my
Almost unconscious wife,
Telling her not to worry,
We would meet in next life.

I told her I won’t marry.
She kept looking at me.
I was sure that she did not
Understand word any.

Then I said that after her,
I would stop dying hair.
I was shaken when she did
Act in a manner rare.

On her pillow she shook her
Head hard from side to side,
Telling me not to do so.
By that I did abide.

But, that instant I knew that
She had been listening
Whatever I had told her,
Even though not speaking.

Now I know I had conveyed
My thoughts as, me, she left.
Her memories are fresh though,
Of her, I am bereft.


• Written in abcb, 7-6-7-6 syllabic format.

M C Gupta
18 March 2009