I will bring you red apples

I will bring you concord grapes,
for you like the color of them

I will cut the meat for you,
in razor thin slices

the nurses tell me
to let you feed yourself
to gain your strength

but you and I know
your arms become more flaccid each passing night,
and no amount of measured movement,
will make that right

I will make the soft cloth wet,
caress the dirt away, for they scrub you
like canvas, painted all wrong
I will brush your hair,
a hundred strokes
as you did

I will read you stories
of children at play

I will bring apples
for your wooden bowl,
to help us remember red, round things,
beginnings, in a world before this room
of endless ending 

by Jim Cunningham


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you very much--I usually aim for "wistful." Poignant and deep even better. (I am the author, Jim, but don't have a profile; thus, the anonymous.)

  2. Yes, this is one of my favourites, too.

    1. I didn't know it was one of your favorites. That is high raise. Thank you Sara.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Jester & King by Salia Jansen

Waiting to meet Dylan Thomas

Interview with Mary-Jane Holmes, of Fish Publishing