Those visiting Blues.
The curse of that news.
The night sky unnaturally golden.
That tremble of hand.
The hostile luck of that land.
The breath from my body was stolen.
The shock of those words.
The lamenting song of the birds.
A horror not easily forgotten.
The sickly cold night.
There was no end in sight.
The gleam from the day had turned rotten.
That hospital bed.
Those tears that were shed.
What a dazzlingly beautiful disaster.
The tormented cries.
Those pale hollow eyes.
The fist that burst through the plaster.
That clinical smell.
The pious sound of the bell.
What a dramatic close of the curtain.
The small children laughed.
The adults stopped short and gasped.
One matter alone remained certain.
The stiffness of limb.
The thin and cold skin.
The conversation was suddenly over.
The numbness of mind.
That drastic decline.
Every thought turned rapidly sober.
The fear of tomorrow.
That unending sorrow.
Gone is the face that I knew.
I gazed up above.
I longed for her hug.
May my friend have what she was due.