It was the spring you lost all your hair. I remember washing up at the sink, outside of your room, I mean really washing up. Then suiting up, mask, gloves, and surgical gown. The lady two rooms down died, and her family was there weeping.
But as I went into your room we had something. It was something we could hold onto. Was it strength? peace? an assurance? I can’t describe it. But we could sit there, and smile at each other. Me, behind my mask. You played music, and told me how good the people were.
It wasn’t until later that tears came. My heart broke completely. Over time, piece by piece, it came back together again, because we know how to heal each other. Maybe there are still a few pieces missing, but I love you even more now.
Please hold me again, and bury your face in my shoulder. I will always love you, and you know that, but rest in it. Always – even if you don’t have any hair. Let’s grow old together.
You are My Love, for always.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“If you love nature, you will love people.”