Jennifer S.

Last Thoughts

As I stepped out of the taxi,
Arbitrarily annoyed with the dust of the road,
Sticking to my flip flopped feet,
I squinted blindly against the sun,
Making out the door of the building you were in,
Caged until the end, though you never knew it.

We visited you for the last time a week before you died,
And although you were still breathing life,
There was only childish ignorance in your eyes.

I used to think I knew the difference between life and death,
But now I see the grayness in between;
You were my first glimpse of this half-life.

Your eyes were clouded, like the stormiest of days, but still the same misted blue
They used to be when you held me on your lap.
My only thoughts that day were of regret.

Why hadn’t I talked to you more?
Why did I always have something to do?
Why was I so convinced that in my silence I was doing nothing wrong?

Your wrinkled skin was a testimony
To a life full of typical human emotions.
Your cold hands, a foreshadowing tribute to the ever-approaching end.

I wished I could tell you everything I remembered-
If only to get a smile or even a glimmer of recognition,
But your eyes remained dull and jaded.

So as I climbed back into the taxi,
After an arduous day of recollection and failed attempts,
I knew this was the last time I’d ever see you.
And so you died, a week later.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.