We were unstoppable, then, weren’t we, remember? We would look on toward the endless sky, counting clouds, those fat wishes, snapping our fingers to the boom box, singing.
Still, your voice was so powerful, an alto, like velvet, brushing all over me until I was misty-eyed.
Now, your days are filled with chemo, hair loss, and vomit. You drift on and away with morphine as I bitch to a God who will listen.
Finally, that day came, they set you free, so I rushed around opening french doors to bring the greenery in and pushed up the windows for a breeze. Later, I made the hot beverage with the berry fruit tray.
There-there-there, lay all of your troubles down, that’s it, shut your eyes, and dream as we wait for another day, the sun to come out once again.