throughout the day
before my dad died,
i held my father’s hand;
once strong, fleshy
now feeble, bony
but still warm…
and still gripping
(though not for long).
as i left his room that night
with an “i love you”,
he raised his hand up
towards me in a
slow, deliberate wave.
a poem in my pocket 
Feb 20, 2023 @ 11:02:06
I got to hold my mother’s hand while… she left.
This is awesome work, capturing an almost unrelatable moment, lyn. Thanks
Feb 20, 2023 @ 11:05:24
Thank you, Ron…those are holy moments, I believe.
Feb 16, 2023 @ 10:53:42
Beautiful, poignant poetry.
Feb 17, 2023 @ 10:13:59
Thanks for reading.
Feb 16, 2023 @ 09:47:43
That last silent gesture alone says a lot about the character of your Dad and the love you shared. Beautifully written, Lynn.
Feb 17, 2023 @ 10:14:20
Yes, thank you, Dora!
Feb 15, 2023 @ 21:45:18
Delicately touching 💗
Feb 17, 2023 @ 10:14:47
thanks, Dawn
Feb 17, 2023 @ 16:54:04
You’re welcome Lynn
Feb 15, 2023 @ 21:33:52
Awww how touching!!