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Sedate swans swim serenely,
Silently upon the lake.
As I travel out to home.
In the evening, of day and life
Light fades slowly,
As sleep embraces.
We sit and we wait, hushed,
In the quiet of the room.
Then, nothing happens
The hours given,
Pass.
Your breathing is deep,
Laboured,
We hold hands,
A gentle heart beating
Determinedly.
The swan is mentioned.
Evoking a warm smile,
A memory rising,
From a rich field of recall.
Gathered over many years.
We pray for release,
Though breathing continues
In a contorted way,
The ‘Scream’, reluctantly borrowed
Is an image to consider.
We remember with friends
The days gone by.
Smiling, through stories described.
Names from the past, intrude,
Like ghosts, becoming real,
Lifting sorrow and sadness,
Not to erase, but hold
For thoughtful scrutiny later.
Then, at a time of choosing
Breathing ends and sadly,
Warmth has left the home.
Silence, with tears take place.
Memories remain
As the swans swim soundlessly
Somewhere,
Away into the distant evening.
By Jim McParland.
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