After all the years, the heart-shaped
promises, a Ponts des Arts love lock
one Spring, it has come now to this —
a sterile room, too-small-for-two bed,
plastic flowers, faint urine smell.
Standing bedside, she strokes and hums,
remembers a warm night by the sea.
The setting sun kisses white hair
golden. Tremors become twitches,
become silence.
Ryan Stone
Oh man, this is such a heavy piece. To sit and watch death arrive is something one would not wish on anyone. This reminded me of my mother’s passing and how it must have been for my dad to watch her slowly and achingly disappear from his world. Great artwork to accompany this piece, too. It is itself poetic!
Ryan, your writing never disappoints. “In Passing” is a beautiful capture of a life lived and loved. Your photo is stunning with the moon visible between the tree branches, very peaceful. Please enjoy your week. ~ Mia
Sorrowful Ryan. But also sweet that he dies beside the woman he’s loved all these years, that they have all these wonderful memories between them. I do not think there is such a thing as a ‘good death’ but at least being next, being touched by his wife of many years, I think that’s a close one to ‘good.’
Oh, Ryan, damn this is just so sad and incredibly beautiful. You always leave us with such deep feelings…
Oh, this is very touching. A warm poem, that builds a delicate sadness. Beautifully penned, thank you for sharing!
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