Beauty. An unfinished poem about dying.

There once was a man

Who was strong and tall and broad and brown.

I mention the way he looked

Because it was part of everything that he meant to me.

His handsome hands

Were smooth, brown, determined

Thick ropey veins made inroads across their vastness.

Those hands meant so many things to me

Comfort, provision



Commitment, dedication

Gentle kindness.

Death comes to us all at sometime

As indeed it did for this man I loved.

It takes what it will

Namely, life.

But I can never forgive


For what it stole along the way.


About eatmystreet

Join in the joie de vivre.
This entry was posted in Grief, Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Beauty. An unfinished poem about dying.

  1. Mama Cormier says:

    What a beautiful poem. I’m not sure why it’s titled ‘unfinished’ for it provided me with an insight of your feelings and why you loved this man. I suppose your love will go on forever even though ‘death’ has taken this man from you.

    • Thanks so much for your comment Mama Cormier. I guess it is titled ‘unfinished’ because there is always so much more to say when it comes to grief. Some of which is quite hard to get out! I am so pleased you enjoyed my poem though.

  2. Pingback: Plugged and Unplugged - eatmystreet

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