The music, in all honest truth, could not have

been that much more dramatic,

As you stood and ambled towards the stairs,

and I held back, swayed by your gravity.

I loved you then and I love you

now, even though you are not the person

that I once knew.

A beauty grows anew, even as your body fails

and nature, in her folly, her wisdom, her

demonstrable lack of remorse for life,

threatens to take you down,

By bending your body closer to the earth,

as in an eternal hug, she slowly

reaches, but not yet.

Not yet.

I think of cowboys shooting guns straight up into the air, of Indians in their last chance saloon pondering their shared fallen fate, of the horses helping to herd the cattle and the desolation of the landscape with hard rock outcrops dominating the frame; the films that you love so well.

The music ends and the stairs ascended, you work your way to a deep sleep.

And I sit and stir, moved by your grace, your wizened and aged body battling daily the elements,

bequeathed upon this earth but for a short term of life,

A single tear, silent yet graceful, grows on my eyelash and let falls to the earth,

A slave to gravity, as your body was when I saw it fall.

To you, with who I would not be here, I thank,

For this blessed thing called life.


Photograph taken by author with Pentax S1a, please use CC if reproduced.


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