Where he once sat

Laughing at Desmonds reruns

Volume at max, grainy 90s footage

But it’s enough

Where he once ate

Hands trembling, Parkinson’s is no joke

The cancer was eating his cheeks up

He still had his sandwich though

Where he once slept

Tossing and turning, sleep apnea unrelenting

Snoring like a sort of elephant

At least he could rest

Where he once walked

Through the small garden

Pacing back and forth in the confined space

His hydrangeas were wonderful though

Now be no longer walks

Cannot eat or sit in that chair

As for sleep, he is in an eternal rest

And I’m left with only a hole in my heart

Dreadful silence