I heard her short gasps of breath,
Saw her frail bosom,
Rise and fall ever so tremulously.
Her eyes were closed,
I doubt whether-
She knew I was there.
She was lost,
I think,
Somewhere in that space,
In between life and death.
I prayed she would live,
Come back and be well.
The truth was-
It was better for her,
To let go, to die.
She was nothing but-
An almost empty husk,
Her life source sucked out,
By old age.
I waited for her,
To die.
She went,
So quietly,
As if she had just fallen asleep,
After a long tiring evening;
Like an antique clock,
Covered with cobwebs and dust,
Running out of time,
For the very last time.
A hollow ache in my heart,
Tears threaten to fall;
I feel so cold and numb,
As I bend to kiss,
Her deceptively warm forehead.
I grieve her death,
But I know,
She is alright now,
Peaceful and happy,
Where she has gone.
It would be selfish of me,
Wanting her here,
Back;
Tied to machines,
Prodded and poked,
For reasons,
She never understood.