The Perfect Death by Neetu
January 26, 2019 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as Neetu, Poet's Day
They have been sitting on the porch
in reclining chairs, an old couple,
watching the world go by
each evening the sun's shadows pass
over their faces revealing
nothing more than a few lines
of contentment
they never touch, their hands
always resting neatly on their laps,
or sometimes, they hold a glass of wine.
Passersby note with some surprise
how unmoved they are by changes
like when they widened roads
and built that new high-rise
right in front of their little row house,
dug out cherry trees and tall maples
that grew on both sides
but no one wants to ruffle sunshine
with questions—
they just wave and smile.
Today they sit as usual,
the last of the sun's rays flicker
grudgingly, a little hesitant, it seems
the woman extends her hand,
touches his
their eyes meet—
her hand still on his, a quiver
passes her lips,
she closes her eyes
as he covers her hand
with his.
© Neetu Malik
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