Tim Larsen


Her hair was matted
Her face wrinkled
Her look screamed
and trickled pain.

Across the marble
Walking, pacing
Through the maze
That marked her home

With a stuttered step
She fell and died.
The floor greeted her fall
As if by some knowledge

Of it all, but I sat there
Looking at her
Sprawled out
On the cold floor,
Watching her life seep
Into linoleum,
Wondering if some
Emergency team would
Stop her playing death.

I remembered
The moment her gray eyes
Pierced mine and I remembered
Her walking and pacing, slowly
And I remember most the marble floor
Greeting her with open arms

Things only read
In stories and poems
And spoken about in hushed tones
Or heard from a distance, like
The faint whisper of the wind
I heard in her fall.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Poem Edited: Monday, May 2, 2011

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Comments about Terminal by Tim Larsen

  • Tom J. Mariani (12/19/2007 6:42:00 PM)

    I just found your poems today. But it's like I've known them all my life. Check out my 'Looking for Encoragement In ICU.'

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