Haibun Today

A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 4, Number 1, March 2010

Stevie Strang
Lake Arrowhead, California, USA



I'd not seen him in several years when I heard he was in the hospital. "No visitors," his wife demanded, but I went anyway. I took a deep breath and entered his room. His six foot frame was huddled, like a small child, in the middle of the bed. His eyes, once sparkling and sharp, were now gaunt and hollow. He extended his hand then quickly retracted it, almost afraid of showing that he cared. I had much to say, to tell him that I had always been his daughter though his circumstances kept us apart. He no longer knew my grown children, never saw my grandchildren, or knew that I still loved the colour purple. No chance that we could ever catch up at this late date, and all I could think about was that I never learned to read music and play “Greensleeves” on the piano.

as he is dying
a thick layer of dust
on the ceiling fan




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