Watching Hills Go By

She was away from where her soul lives,
searching for memories - often lost.
Entangled mind of past and fantasy:
“Lying on a bus floor”, she said
“Watching hills go by - a good day.” 

Would she return, I know not.
To hold ones breath all day, too much.
I wonder if she who made my blood flow,
is hers about to stop?
The nurse chats - I’ll know more soon.

Feelings surge,
washing in. 
washed out.
I sense God’s presence 
His peace - sufficient.

I wait. 
On the verge of grief, at loss.
Memories come stalking 
on the unknown time of death.
Knowing soon, never when.

Yet love, in awaiting loss,
creates treasure from moments -
a memories delight.
Powerless I watch. She searches on
till death awakes for her, a new dawn.

© Craig A Roberts, 2020

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