Imogene’s Notebook
Life Writes the Pages
A poem to say I love you and farewell
The journey has reached its zenith.
She is small.
The smallest she has ever been.
Time has no real parameters,
it is a fluid existence.
She returns to gentler days,
joy filled with mundane, ordinary things.
Tiny million bell flowers spilling over clay pots.
Her husband's beer can windchimes,
clinking in the tree.
Now, nothing is dependent on her,
save for the neighborhood stray cat she feeds every day.
It prowls with guttural cries,
its routine disturbed by her growing absence.
Cool, sterile, hospital sheets are becoming the new familiar.
Home is changing into something antiseptic.
Is the love there when a house sits empty?
Discarded. Forgotten.
Dust blanketing the second-hand couch sunken with imprints of past lives.
Termites left unchecked, worm holing their way through the walls,
where portraits of childhood stick figures and construction paper banners,
were once taped and proudly displayed.
Gutters filling with catskins and…
