Sonnet Xliv Poem by Sam Peterson

His hands knotted tight, pulled up towards his face
Stick-like arms, seemingly blocking the world
On his side, often adjusting is body
His breathing ragged and irregular

His eyes quarter open, focus not there
His mouth gaping, peacefully letting go
My father is no longer of this world
Tittering on the edge of the next stage

What images are with him, deep inside?
Does he walk the world of his youth?
Does he now revisit those vivid scenes
Long faded from his daily conscious world?

What images, thoughts, memories and dreams
Will be there waiting for us at the end