Grey

The room is grey.

His hands are white.

I can see the moon in the approaching twilight.

As everyone's singing I catch him looking around one last time with his tired eyes.

The words don't blend, and I am sobbing; I am a mess.

Until this very moment, I had never known true distress.

Can you imagine the strength it must have taken,

Looking around, the world so clear, as one last time the world was deafening and shaken?

Can you imagine the pain he must have been in,

To move his head and see the tears we were freely weeping?

I always knew he was strong, but on that final day I saw the end of the strength give out.

I always knew he’d loved me, but on that final day he reminded me.

I never knew he was weak, but on that final day he was so frail.

I never knew he would cry, but on his cheek was a tear trail.