Not comparable

I see orange

pumpkins, crimson

beets and wine


feel cool autumn air,

but not

in the hospital room,

an oxygen machine

drones, an alert button

droops helpless, near a

fig newton


the small plastic cup—

waiting for winter is

not comparable

to witnessing a soul,

his long life fading away.


©2017 Ontheland

12 thoughts on “Not comparable

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