120 pounds…
The lymphoma took over her body,
110…
replacing her with each tendril and metastasis.
102…
She slipped in and out
98…
through drugs and exhaustion.
95…
She knew it was coming.
90…
Two days before dying she recited
“Under the spreading chestnut tree the village smithy stands…”
87…
She saw the bullet coming at her in slow motion.
85…
And three seconds before her light went out,
she waved goodbye
and was gone.
82 at age 82.
Did she really wave goodbye
or flick a switch
to welcome the darkness?
Filed under: Poetry
C h a z z W r i t e s . c o m 