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