Friday, 13 November 2015

Stop all the clocks....

By the lamp's soft glow 
I sit and I knit;
 a stitch for each laboured breath
you take, 
as the click of the needles 
and tick of the clock
measure time slipping away

Clock ticks, needles click; 
a pump whirs and flashes
 in synchronised rhythm.
Dark hours pass,
to the low rasp of breath
of a life not yet extinguished

The clock stops,
 needles lie still;
no longer clicking to the tick.
Breath fades 
and all is silent