a lost conversation



Almost erased
By the white of the walls
And the aseptic gowns

Almost recovered
When she held his hand
And made him touch her dimpled skin

Almost lost
Yet he made a full throated appeal
His conversation a desperate plea
” Give me his life, my son is too young
I will barter you my pride, my ambition, my Self, my breath ”

Almost heard
but only by those in shock
they stifled their gasps
As he lay silent in defeat
grieving a lost conversation
with his son

Published by Kashiana

I am a management professional by job classification and a work practitioner by personal preference. One poetry collection - Shelling Peanuts and Stringing Words and a chapbook, Crushed Anthills. Always gathering poems, and letting them marinate and change shape and form.

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