Writings and Witterings



I woke with a jerk
of my head, raising it
from her deathbed.
Fourth night running.
My only rest.
I could not and would not
leave her side.

She knew it was her deathbed
though she’d lain there
for years
with the love
of her life;
the love who, for her,
would never die.

Polly Stretton © 2014


15 thoughts on “Deathbed

  1. Very sad and well written. Full of emotion Polly!


  2. Lovely and sorrowful.


  3. Sad and lovely (made me think of Emily Dickinson).


  4. A very sad poem–all the different lives we have put in one so subtly but vividly written of. Thanks. k.


  5. The hint of a engaging back story tugs the heart.


  6. Very powerful Polly! While it is sad, it is also beautiful. Many never get to know a love like that. x


  7. So true, Lea. Sad, but true. Many thanks for your comments, pleased that you liked it x


  8. Revisiting this–agh. I know this feeling. It is just terrible. You have to kind of understand, I think, that any losses are not necessarily a reflection of the past or what’s gone before. That’s hard to keep in mind, I think. k.


  9. Beautiful and poignant. This one would be filed in my categories as ‘deep stuff’


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