11 string digits.
Waves crash against the shore,
Water flows over,
Touching her feet.

10 cities on your bucketlist.
She thought of them small,
She made jokes
But you’ve never been adventurous.

9 dress shirts,
A palette of blues
Unexpected gifts.
She cherishes them.

8th. Your day.
Memories, brightly colored
Like a photograph
From an overexposed camera.

7. A lucky number?
She doesn’t feel so.
The luck that once was
Fades away.

6 months. You gave
Your all
All might and strength
And faith.

5AM. She perks from sleep,
Awoken by a nightmare
She cannot recall
Or piece together.

4 days away
From your day
She’s overwhelmed,
Plans underway.

3PM. She feels uneasy,
Disturbed and a bit queasy.
Water, nauseating.
Why? She cannot spill.

2 hours later,
The news filters
To her doorstep,
Hush tones and whispers.

1 moment she thought;
You would make it,
Survive. Someway or the other
But. You are gone.



Photo by Patrick Reichboth on Unsplash