He grasps my hand with his tightest grip he has his energy lacks his breaths steady and his heart slow. Kneeling on my one knee feeling it beginning to bruise I hold the tears back and the pain is hidden. He is weak and his heart is at large and at caring the sheets drape over him like a delicate flower in a clear glass vase. In the distance murmer of elderly voices from complaints to moans of pains His teeth false and his bones broken. His leg in a cast holding it as a new born baby cradled in its mothers arms. Knowing his breath is begging to decrease and the nearly empty room becoming silent a beeping noise fills the room. Everything happening so quick so sudden his body sits cold and still like stone his face whitens to the color of a jack rabbits small tail. His body cold to the touch I cringe in fear a lady pulls at my side and leads me out of the horrar filled room..
The one who is on his last breath
October 2, 2012