*15 Minutes

<font color=darkviolet>Another one for Cassandra.

15 minutes
spent playing the guitar, reading a book,
watching TV,
talking on the phone,
surfing the web,
swimming in a pool,
laughing with friends,
eating dinner,
taking a shower,
planting a tree,
working my hardest,
performing for an audience,
thinking about life,
writing my thoughts.

My life has had a great many “15 minutes, ”
yet I can still pick out the worst.

15 minutes
spent listening to your rasping breaths,
feeling your heartbeat weaken,
realizing I’m soaked in your blood,
waiting for supposed help,
letting tears roll down my checks,
wiping my nose on my sleeve,
begging you to live,
looking into your unfocused eyes,
praying for you chest to rise again,
hoping for a miracle,
willing to do anything to help you,
thinking about the pain you must be in,
wishing you had been just two inches to the left,
trying to calm your spasms,
stroking you broken form,
wanting to do so much more for you,
regretting my mistake,
knowing things won’t be alright,
watching as you die.

(It was a 15 minute car ride from my house to the vet’s office, where there was nothing that could be done to save Cassandra. She was only 7 and a half weeks old when she died and it was all my fault.)