His sleep was often troubled.
His dreams crowded with images of sudden death.

Such death as had swallowed his father,
obliterating him in a roar that reached
the dead man’s ears too late for hearing.
He had struggled to imagine that
paroxysm of anguish, snuffed out
almost sooner than it had begun. The man
had vanished. His son, far away,
continued in his solitary play. His private adventures
                  filled up the long, empty day.

But her death lingered. He watched,
as she died slowly, before his eyes.
Each passing day deprived her of another
part of what she once had been. The bellows of lungs
finally ceased working, with a groan.
No flame remained, however low,

her slow end was over. The greying flesh
indifferent. Of the person who had
loved and protected him, through his
vulnerable and lonely years,
     there remained no trace.