My Brother Tom Poem by Elaine Battersby

He has gone to god now.
Finally, he is at peace, at rest.
His final days, tragic, desperate,
Lonely,
Sad.
In his hay day, he was dashing,
Handsome,
Funny,
Debonair.
But when I saw him last,
Sitting in his chair, by the window,
And he looked bent and broken,
Like a tired old man.
His friend and enemy the bottle,
Had, became is only focus,
It drained away his essence, his life force.
Once he had danced and laughed the night away,
Now, as his end drew near, he became a shadow,
Of his former self.
Consumed, with grief and anger.
His loneliness engulfed him.
And I miss him.


Elaine Battersby
(Elaine B) November 2011