Till We Are Home

Doors open, a dank odor invades 

Sinks into throat, my mind many shades

Of fear, shock, great sorrow in these halls.

How is she today within these walls?

Pain upon pain, yet I find 

your hand always in mine.

Different doors, other halls, this time yours.

She in wheeled chair, her great joy in scores.

Years have passed, we watched the slow decline,

The same evil twice robbed we’ve resigned.

Pain upon pain, yet I find 

your hand always in mine.

Overstuffed, leather chair with vista green.

It’s bag atop a pole to drain you clean.

Nightmare entry, I see your eyes pleading

Relief! Help! You cry…the machines beeping.

Pain upon pain, yet I find 

your hand always in mine.

They left…turned off the beeping.

Silence, save for our weeping.

Singing we try, gathered now four,

Gone home, our darling girl we adored.

Pain upon pain, yet I find 

your hand always in mine.