Death With Emerald Eyes Poem by John W. McEwers
Death With Emerald Eyes
I always thought yours would be
the last eyes I'd see in this world.
A long gaze from beneath clean white sheets
just turned, and your hand in mine as hospital
curtains curl toward my bed with a soft breeze
then a gust of air, and a choking, the image
of those green eyes burned into mine for a final
few moments.
There'll be no hand to hold.
But those eyes I'll still see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 9:25:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
