I see you in sleep,
the sands of remembrance collecting
in the corners of my eyes.
You,
walking across the kitchen
bare feet padding quietly, slim
legs in blue shorts,
slipping in and out.
Your face smiles familiar with
a luminescence defiant of gravity
as you fall
in slow motion
into my arms where you could not lay
in the unconscious world of your
last hours
Charlotte Hamrick 
that last little bit gives this gravity of its own
a hard place of being, there in the end of life
and def a time we would love them to regain consciousness
and fall into our arms, one more time…
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Yes, it’s true…
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Oh. A breath-catcher. This poem stopped me in a way that a Dickinson can stop me. Thank you.
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Thank YOU, dear Glenn. I appreciate the compliment so much. Dickinson? Wow!
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