by Pavel Chichikov
She looks out her window
I know her garden
The lawn sloping down to the narrow canal
She waits for the shapeless one to enter –
Death who has nothing
To call his own
For she has renounced all analgesis
Except for the patch
They put on her skin
All food and water
Except for the modicum
A short way to go and she travels lightly
She is the mistress now, not prey,
Though she may not
Refuse to go
And when he comes in
He will be the familiar friend
Whom she knows and not the foe
He is the friend
Who knew her to love,
It will not be the end
When she moves on
I know why she needs
No more than her eyes
For she has riches
To give when she dies
Pavel's Websites are at The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov and Catholic Images by Pavel Chichikov
