Plans

A Poem by James Bowie

Austin James

I cradle you in my arms
So heavy, so meaty, so still
I look down at your face
Same expression, same closed eyes

So many plans
Of apples and history and girls
Of books and soil and squirrels
All for naught

A tear rolls down my cheek
drips onto your little gown
I glance away to stop the flow
A brush on my arm! what was that!
Did you just wake up?!?

I look down at your face
Same expression, same closed eyes
The tears flow in earnest
All for naught

We sit on the cold, stale couch
I think about what will never be
Slowly, the sun peeks out over the distant buildings
Your first sunrise, your only sunrise

It does not brighten your cheeks
The blazing light does not cause you to stir
Nothing will, nothing at all, ever
I pass you to the nurse, who puts you to eternal bed