Gun-fire

 

Sitting here in my chair
Altered by Susan’s never
Having heard the gun-fire
Nor read of those now dead –
Her road being longer and
Burgeoned with ongoing pain
And languishing dreams and

Thoughts that faded day after
Day (Duffy curls up in my lap
Now) instead.  The last light
Swirls around its coils and
Dies.   My sore eyes can’t see
Beyond the image that remains:
Her smile at some look I gave

Her ages ago, some song I sang,
The sound of crickets in the
Yard.  Would I rather spend
This time with her or accept
The force that sent her on?
It is well for all mankind the
Choice wasn’t mine to make.