Death and dieing  Poems on specific subjects and themes   Return to home page 

Book 18 Page 29

 

The bed where she lay

 

She was old when she died

and in my minds eye I can still see her lie

on her bed as I knelt

by her 'death bed' side.

 

And now she’s gone,

but I still have her bed.

That bed where she lay

frail being fed.

 

And I can still imagine her there,

as I stroked her hair.

Kneeling beside her

with a tear there.

 

And now I only have to look at that bed,

where once she lay her precious head,

and memories flood back

like they are not memories at all.

The day my mother died.

 

© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au  dominicj7@poetry.net.au Created on 4/30/00