What true love looks like

What does true love look like?
It’s between a man of 90 and a woman of 80
The woman on the bed
Weak and unresponsive
She doesn’t look good, everyone knows
With an oxygen tube attached around her nose
To help her breathe at least at the moment

The man sits beside the bed even if he is tired
He doesn’t care, he will stay with her
He talks to the woman, tears falling down his cheeks
She is my wife, he keeps on repeating
He calls her name again and again
But all she can do is stare blankly at him

They’ve been together for a decade of six
And stood through the storm of life in all of those years
Together, they got each other’s back
They are not just partners, no
But soulmates in fact

She clenches her teeth
Rolls her eyes
Catching her breath
Chasing her heartbeat
Everyone tries to help her
But she is too tired
She is too weak and too old to fight

She looks at her husband as he holds her hand
A tear falls from her worn out eyes,
This is the last memory of him that she will keep
Before she closes her eyes
And peacefully sleeps

© Pancake Bunnykins

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The Swing

There is a girl in a lovely pink dress,
Seems too small for her, but she wears it nevertheless.
She sits on the swing and looks at the sky,
A smile on her face as she sings a lullaby.

The girl had her hair tied in a pink ribbon,
But she doesn’t seem to play with any of the children.
She sits on the swing, goes back and forth,
Scraping the ground using her foot.

The girl on the swing, she’s always there once a year,
Swinging up and down, every 10th of September.
Her hair tied in a pink ribbon, wearing the lovely pink dress,
That even if its too small, she wears nevertheless.

I sat on the swing a day before the 10th,
And saw that the ground had seemed to ascend,
Under my feet was a gravestone that paved,
To the girl in a little pink dress’ grave.

© Pancake Bunnykins

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I write because…

I write because the world is a beautiful place,
It’s the reason why I’m wearing this smile on my face.
My heart is blessed with all its wonders,
And it needs to be expressed by writing it in numbers.

I write because my mind is restless,
It appreciates a lot of things and it can’t be suppressed.
The more I write about what I think,
The calmer I get, but the more I need to refill my ink.

I write because I want to share to the world my thoughts,
They can agree with me or better yet not.
Either way, I still want to write,
Because it gives my heart such pure delight.

– © Pancake Bunnykins

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