A musty eiderdown
A broken rose tree
An unkept house
Even the golden pheasant seems forlorn
Tomorrow morning will be the first of fourteen:
How are you, dearie?
Good man, that’s the way.
We’ll just go to the toilet now.
Didn’t you bring any soap?
Cup of tea, darlin’?
Yes, she just rang and she’s coming in soon.
You’ve just had a little fall – everything is fine now.
Your son? Yes, he’ll be here soon too.
The bathroom is just over there.
Ring this bell if you need us.
Yes, they’re coming in to see you soon ….
A dry-cleaned eiderdown
A new rose tree
A clean house
A longed-for homecoming
Improbable
Unlikely
A wrenched, beating-too-fast heart
A bird hit by a car going too fast
A flock of crows
A bitten lip
A screaming child
Sunglasses keep fogging up in the car and I can’t see properly
Broken wings now an inadequate metaphor
I can’t see
jmgoyder 
Bless your hearts. My eyes are teary, but not nearly so much as yours. Take care. ♥
Getting there – thanks.
Deeply painful, poignant.
BTW, I’m a hospice nurse….”aniticipatory grieving” an important, vital part of the process. I believe poetry is a unique and effective way to work through that.
Thanks Victoria – you’re right.
So difficult, Julie
Yes.
Stunning writing Julie! So often it must come from such pain.
love Annie