• leaflet

    . . .a thin triangular flap of a heart valve. . . a small book usually having a paper cover . . . a medical lit-art e-journal from The Permanente Press
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The Gift

Poetry, Vol 6: Iss 1


These words I speak slowly 
pass between us like a fine mist falling 
lingering until silence remains in our solitude 

And while time has slowed 
into droplets falling one by one 
I must bide my time 
waiting for you to ask a question.

This news you have not known
is parceled into small packages
you will open in the time of your choosing,

Returning from so long ago
these tumor cells now clamoring for attention
leave only your question,
“How much time is there left?”

Answers I do not know
yet wish to give you
time to sit in tall Spring grasses bowing
to the sound of a gentle breeze;

Time to turn and face the source
of warmth on your cheek
smiling upward with eyes closed
as you feel its caress.