A QUIET DEATH
By Rob Mohr
When my mother died my sister bathed her in the silent stillness of death’s embrace where love alone could not save. Watching too I turned my head In time to see the bare essentials laying there, fallen leaves that marked her stay. Her spirit’s passage too quick to see drew heat from candles to warm her way, dimmed the lights as she passed us by, a gentle breeze that marked the day. |