a memory
to a doctoring daughter worried about squandering age,
nothing is dearer than watching his wandering fingers walk, doddering across the photography's page,
each moment in space is a memory captured specifically to conjure a grin on his face...
and for that moment in time, the wrinkled lines were erased, and her father was wholly replaced with no hint of decay.
his posture straightened, and she saw in his gaze that the photo had momentarily lifted the haze -
"you never cease to amaze me" - and then, his clarity fades...
so she takes a break, heading downstairs and grabbing one of the cafeteria's plastic rectangular plates.
she smiles politely, waiting to pick a seat until she spots a nurse who's not up to speed on her case,
then navigates through the grey tables and trays until she gets to her place
where she picks at her food for a few hours before she's startled awake;
the white hospital walls no longer feel safe.
the unwavering tone permeating her space leaves her heart racing,
and she races to room 28, where the noise emanates.
oh, to be brave...
afloat
oh, what a day to be born...
as one departs, so another arrives.
I hope my name is Emilia. I hope I have radiant green eyes.
I hope I won't lose a pet or a friend until I'm at
least twenty-five.
but I hope most of all that I live a great life...