Bob Gossom
THE ROOM IS QUIET NOW
I sit on the patio where the
fine delicate scent of her flowers
drifts in the air
The hospice nurse’s hand on my shoulder
tells me the machines and tubes
have been removed
When I enter
she is lying quietly
but her eyes seek me out
It is time
I don’t want to get the ring past the knuckle
But she opens her eyes, insisting
I place it in the dresser drawer
With the jewelry and medications
All the things now set aside
I want to gather them up and
shower her with
gold, silver, white pills, and blue
But with a gesture she would
clatter them all to the floor
The afternoon light moves slowly
as I pace the room
I want to speak from my heart
but this tires her
So I tell her of family and friends
while the sun moves across the floor
and brushes the edge of her bed
We’re beyond words now
So I sit by the bed and sing