Sitting in the armchair, soundly asleep,

The furrows of pain are smoothed out at last,

Your breathing is shallow; your pain was deep,

Left you gasping for air, left you aghast…

I'm looking at you, searching for the past,

Through my tears, searching features of your face,

The beauty of which my memory cast

In pure marble, which passing time couldn't erase.

But cruel present etched deep lines on it,

Lines of suffering, deep furrows of pain,

The past is gone and the future is writ…

Nothing will be the same ever again.

I watch your peaceful sleep with heart aching…

© P. J. Oszmann (May 2007)

© Illustration: Digital Photo retouched in Photoshop (May 2007)

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