Last Whim Poem by Christopher Midgett

A wife is sitting in her husbands hospital room.
She is not waiting for him to recover, for she knows he wont.
He is staring at the ceiling, silent tears rolling down his face.
His children are at school, they have no clue.
He has to leave his peaceful existence, at only 32.
The doctor is crying in his office, the nurse is in disbelief.
He has stopped crying as the memories fade away, he's losing his grip.
The world is turning, it becomes black.
The monitor, is becoming quiet.
He holds his wife's hand, its all he has left.
His hand is becoming cold, his eyes look gray.
He takes a deep breath, he looks out the window, at the graveyard next-door.
He asks his wife if he can have that spot right under the oak tree, he isn't smiling.
His wife starts to let go of all hope, she's breaking.
She cry's for all the memories, come and gone.
A dove comes and lands on the window sill.
How could this be, doves don't live here.
He hears a very quiet voice, he must be imagining it he thinks.
The dove stares at the mans eyes, he sees the beauty of life.
The dove is crying, how could this be, doves don't cry
The light comes back to his world, little by little.
The monitor is becoming lively.
The man looks back at the window, the dove is gone
The man's cancer has ran rampant, but yet its gone.
The man walks out of the hospital.
He picks his kids up from school.
He tells them about the dove, that cried for him.


He is now 99 years old, he sleeps one last time.
He has a thought invoking dream.
He is flying, but something comes over him.
He fly's to the nearby hospital.
He decides to land on the window sill on the third floor.
He sees a dying man right inside the room.
He tells the dying man in a whisper, to just hold on to hope.
He cry's for the man, The flying man suddenly disappears.
The man of 99 dies in his sleep, he is happy again, he is whole.
While his younger self lives on.