last moments

 most mornings 

they would drink their coffee,

share a breakfast together, 

and then spend some time in prayer. 

they truly enjoyed their time together, 

a healthy peaceful rhythm, 

where one started, 

the other began. 

never one without the other. 

in the afternoons, he would find her 

curled up on the couch, 

rays of soft sunlight

dancing on her closed eyes, 

about to doze off. 

he would find a blanket and cover her, 

making sure she was cozy and warm.

she wouldn't open her eyes, 

but she would give him a soft smile

to let him know she was thankful. 

every time. 

he stepped out of the house one afternoon 

after tucking her in,

he wanted to get a walk in with the dog. 

he stopped a few paces down the street 

and thought to himself, 

'She did not stir when i blanketed her.

I did not see 

her smile.'

That did not sit right with him, 

it was a small detail, 

but he thought something must be wrong. 

So he turned back. 

She was right where he left her only a few 

moments before, 

he gently touched her cheek, 

another hand 

hovering on her shoulder. 

she did not stir. 

he could not wake her up.