Laughing Through the Shadows Morning breaks, gentle, uncertain, and I reach for laughter—old jokes, tacky songs, borrowed lines, anything to bring the light back to your eyes. Your smile, the way it sparks even now, is worth every battle, every stumble. Coffee spills across the counter, we shimmy in the kitchen, I deliberately croon..
My Cup Runneth Over: A Home Care Vignette* A sticky moment of sadness, laughter, and vitamin E oil It began with hope and a small bottle of vitamin E oil, clutched in the determined hands of our personal support worker. Her voice was resolute as she brashly explained her plan for Anne’s hair, which had..
Echoes of Yesterday: A Poignant Reunion with an Old Friend* We sat in the silver hush of late morning, old friend’s hands circling ours with steady warmth. His words were gentle—knitting silence to sorrow, eyes meeting Anne’s with the hush of knowing. We spoke of small kindnesses, old laughter, winter’s return. He held hope..
Every Outing is a Date A Wry Vignette About Anne and Me In high school, I was the ugly duckling. I was the only kid who managed to look both invisible and conspicuous at the same time, sporting a truly unfortunate haircut and acne that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. Dates, for..
Anne as Amaryllis* A Free Verse Meditation on Resilience Anne, you are amaryllis— crimson bloom, fierce in the window as frost thickens on the glass, your petals bold, refusing to bow to the hush of winter’s certainty. In the quiet dark, roots shiver, your green stem trembling— still, you push upward, toward the faintest light,..
Anne: The Purple Finch* A Free Verse Poem on Loss and Longing Anne, your body like a purple finch perched on the hemlock’s last bare branch— mid-winter, here in our cold north— your eyes bright as the berry she weighs in her beak, uncertain if this chill is the final freeze, or if warmth lingers..
The Language of Tenderness For those who speak without words* In the hush of morning, your eyes gather sunlight— a gentle exchange, no syllables needed. Fingers brushed across your hand whisper what mouths cannot; the pulse beneath your skin beats slow and true, a message I read by heart. I watch the shape of your..
The Sesame Benediction A poem on Anne’s joy at savouring a fresh bagel Steam sighs from the hollow of the still-warm bagel, Crackled shell yielding under her trembling touch, Gold-flecked with sesame, their perfume a pulse— A whiff of ancient streets, laughter curling in air. Richness spilling over, a tide against the tongue— Sweet and..
Palliative Care Hair A free verse poem celebrating Anne’s first visit to the hairdresser since the onset of her disease Today, Anne’s scalp blooms again— silver tufts bristle through the thaw of winter, as if the dawn has stroked the frost from barren fields. The salon chair rises to cradle her— throne of gentle..
Anne’s Radiant Smile In the quiet dawn of a winsome morning, Anne steps into the world, her guileless heart shining bright, radiating warmth like a sunbeam, each glance a beguiling promise, whispers of joy woven in her laughter. The softness of her spirit dances, a gentle breeze through the vermilion leaves of autumn, ..