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At her bedside

I clutch her hands which do not grip mine

And follow the age spots

Splattered across her skin

Until I can smile

Watching her eyes study mine

Praying for recognition

Tiredness swells

Oozing endless drool

Down her chin

Tissue pressed against it

I speak

Do not stop fearing

That she will notice the tears

Climbing onto my lip

I kiss her goodbye

Knowing sleep will drag her free

The currents caressing

Every moment stolen by this.

Poem: Ella Wrightson | Illustration: Ashleigh Rose Anderson


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