Visiting Hours
I made family where I could.
You were Wittersham summers,
evenings by the inglenook,
strawberries in the rain,
a room kept ready.
When I arrive, you are asleep,
a wisp
under the blue hospital blanket.
The water jug sits full.
When your eyes open
you whisper,
‘Your room is always ready.’
Just when we both knew
I wouldn’t need it again.
Lovely indeed
She kept the room ready
long after it was needed.
That is not denial.
That is love
maintaining its posture
until the very end —
refusing to admit
the visit would be the last
even when both of them knew.
— AËLA