by Zachariah Lanza

I missed you tonight when I saw her hands,
Wrinkled and old but still young in spirit and I wish you were here.
It’s when I smell that lavender it all floods back,
Sitting on the side of my bed telling me stories before I slept.
Wake up in the morning and the table is already set.
Now you sit on your own,
Stuck in your head.
What a loss,
Unable to come to terms with the fact that she’s dead.
Hard to remember the good bits.
Still hands and breathing equipment,
I said goodbye.


One thought on “Joanne

  1. My partner and I stumbled over here from a different web address and thought I may as well check things out.
    I like what I see so i am just following you. Look forward to going over your web page yet again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s