My soul was only half there
Your hand lay limp
Upon my lap,
Tears gleaming-streaked down my rosy cheeks.
Your last breath raspy in the winter air,
Your face then went so fair.
The gloom of the solemn moon
Illuminated your fair face
I pulled back your hair and kissed you farewell.
I swear I saw your face burn with passion-or maybe it went lifeless.
My tears stained your jacket like a tea bag staining paper-
Hard to get rid of once it’s happened.
My soul was only half there and my head hung low-like the crescent moon hanging low above my head.
Jennifer Worswick Irving-Bell
Did you enjoy this poem? Why not visit Maggie’s website at: Maggie’s Centre Nottingham to find out more about their exceptional work and/or make a donation. Do you have a poem you would like to submit to Voices? Feel free to do so by email at: email@example.com or via the ‘Contact’ page on this site.