Saturday, April 23, 2011

THE PROMISE

Here you are so sick again,
You don't look so well,
The skin sags around your skull,
And your bed sores really smell

I could try to help you,
Do as I've always done,
Tell you everything's o.k.,
And then dial 9-1-1

But somehow this time's different,
There's nothing in your eyes,
Except the pain of living,
That accompanies your cries

You whisper something in my ear,
And I hold your hand in mine,
I make a solemn promise,
No ambulance this time

Copyright; EGHarne

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