Holding Space

REACH with tentative hand
Touch at the ELBOW
Not wanting to startle
That’s not my STYLE
Nor wishing to deceive
I try to be without GUILE
No desire to be intrusive
Hold and behold
Tend and befriend

Georg’ann

Waiting, watching every breath.
Keeping CLOSE to the APPLE
of so many eyes. Closing time.
Her head in my hand WHILE we sit
looking at the withered garden
of early winter. Came quickly,
this layered EXILE. Grief,
your GUILE now evident
in dried hydrangea blossoms,

her tattered fur over arthritic bones.
Barely flesh yet still our sweet love.
Here only for a few more hours.

Heather