End of Days
I packed a bag with snacks and things to do
Marianne’s new book.
Colored pencils.
Coloring books.
Pens and paper.
The final hours have begun.
A bedside vigil,
Her son and her sister.
A small moth has gotten in.
It flitters around the room
And lights on the window.
It, too, is looking for release.
2 thoughts on "End of Days"
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Strong, moving poem.
Do you mean Marianne Worthington’s book? It will be good company.
Beautiful and reflective writing, clear and strong imagery