©2020

Your face is dark
Not sure if it’s your mood or the lighting
Or my uncertainty in how I want you remembered
I approached this picture like I do my bad habits
Correcting things later, when I should have composed with greater care
We are masters of our art
But sometimes our talents lie
In knowing which pictures not to take

©2020

I brought a bowl of fruit to your room
You chose a fresh green grape
It was small
You could swallow it
You turned to me and said
“I am grateful.”
I asked if you wanted more
You said “Yes, and no.”
And quietly breathed one last breath
Said goodbye to this time and place.
I didn’t think I could finish the fruit,
So late in the night, I returned it to the refrigerator
Where it would stay cold.
And I thought of you.