//This poem is a fiction piece. It’s a self narrated story of a man who lost his wife in their 60’s. Close to the end of his own life, he relives their past memories.//
Sitting on the bank of my imagination
I stare at the horizon
where the sun emits gleeful rays;
rising like my libido used to, at your touch.
In the depth of the burning sea
I shrivel like a merman in the clam
where we once stood together
bathing in the pearls of our love.
Swimming through the remains of the wrecked ship
I’m consumed in the memory of our teenage;
when we first met on the sunken dock of that ship
and months later when I kissed you, making your gills gasp for air.
Our thirties were quirky, sans offsprings
we travelled the states, from New York City to L.A.
and then back east, to Southport,
searching for a retreat to spend our venerable years; oblivious to what lied ahead.
Another thirty summers later, you were diagnosed
as a failed experimentation of evolution;
“We’re just 60; a little beyond half way through life…” I yelled into the void
When the so called saviour, medically explained me your inoperable condition.
Squirming and weeping covertly, I refused to accept it, but
the cancer was feeding on your organs, and my heart.
I wanted to spend the rest of our time together at the port,
dangling our legs in the water, reliving our life, but tables turned and we ended up in medicinal tubes.
Painful thirty days later, I cried as you sighed,
witnessing you last breath was traumatically comforting.
You were relieved of the miserable affliction
But I was left behind, lonely and despaired.
Today, I’m dangling my wrinkled limbs in the water, alone.
Swimming in the pool of our memories, cheating my Alzheimer’s.
At the brink of my life, I’m fulfilled because, the time is here;
the time we prepare ourselves to reunite, in the afterlife, we never believed existed.
My Soul is on Fire 