Her Eyes, Still Bright

About a husband at his wife's deathbed

Her hands, once soft and firm,

Now decorated with dips and valleys.

Skin, like the unfolded laundry of her Saturday noons

When she would hum along the radio to the tunes of her youth.

Those very hands that nervously fiddled with the ring on her wedding day

Clutch the blinding white sheets covering her now frail body.

 

Her lips, once ruby red,

Now a fading rose-petal pink.

Soft then and soft now,

Though they no longer touch trembling lips

As they did in her husband’s first kiss.

Those very lips now gently parted and dry.

 

Her eyes, once vibrant and light,

Even now, they remain nearly the same.

Yet now they hold a deeper, stubborn love

For the man who grips her weathered hand like an anchor

And drinks her lips like a stranded sailor

Just as the light vanishes from her eyes. 

Author's Note

A poem requested by timaashorty