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Cancer
September 22, 2012
Every day
Her arms grow
Thinner
Her shirt
Becomes baggier
Her hair
Is wispier.
It is
Eating her--
Devouring her--
Her own cells
Have
Waged war
On her.
The doctor
Smiles at me
When I come in
Everyday.
The smile is fake,
His eyes
Are cloudy.
I come anyway,
Rain or snow,
Essays or not,
City bus or taxi,
I come to her bedside
And take
Her withered hand.
So that I
Can see
Her lips
Curl into a smile--
So that
It is all
Worth it.
© Eveliz V., Bayamon, Puerto Rico
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This article has 5 comments.
angel_of_silence PLATINUM said...
on Sep. 27 2012 at 2:40 pm
This is a really great poem. You captured the emotion just right. Keep writing.
BlueSunset BRONZE said...
on Sep. 27 2012 at 8:37 am
It's alright, short and simple. I liked it though :-)
FinnTheHuman said...
on Sep. 26 2012 at 8:39 am
That was really good, really sad though. It was really good, keep up the good work.
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