Of an old man and a tree


You laughed through the whole episode.
“Silly old man!” You said.
With your usual ,loud ,uproarious guffawing, miles ahead of a laugh.
Everyone saw the small bloody gash, that the traitor branch outside made on your head.
The one that your now often tottering feet, led you into.
Everyone saw the blood being wiped away. Gone forgotten, done with.
I saw much more. In a single flash.
I saw the wispy white hair, that are so carefully combed across your head, the ones that are tenacious and still stand.
I saw the network of veins, so green, so stark now, against your pale white skin.
I saw the denture, wide and expansive, holding tales from the wonder years.
I saw the shaking cotton grasped in your shaking fingers, now reaching, now missing the target till my fingers closed around yours and you laughed again.
I wish I hadn’t seen this much.
Everyday I shake my head thinking nothing can change, nothing will, I won’t let it.
Everyday I watch you sleep, your hands and feet jerking animatedly, looking so agitated but I know you’re dreaming of something peaceful.
And the days when I feel truly anxious, I turn into a mad scientist.
I imagine that we have travelled back in time, I have managed to protect you in my womb.
Far from falling hair, creaking bones, aches, pains, gashes, far far far away.
And here I will keep you safe, for you are my life, unto eternity.

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