The life-giving sphere shuts soon
A blanket pulled o’er the land
A cherished bough was hewn
Lifeless wood I clutch in my hand
The twilight moments were the hardest
When fear and dread grip the heart – tightest
Anticipating the end was the worst
Emotional fountain waiting to burst
Off came one of the trusty jute
I should’ve noticed the splitting fibres
Upset and angry refusing to be soothed
What can be said and done no longer matters
Mustering all my strength and courage
To ponder, wonder, and relive one last time
Teary vista, vivid image
Bittersweet events etched in the mind
Was I asking to be pushed all the time?
Back and forth forgetting the patient pusher
Nay, for I believe to request is not a crime
But then again, I could’ve done it in a way far milder
Over time and weather
Tacit replies confirmed my fear
The swinging becomes heavy and slow
When responses and expressions grew cold
Let the wood be a blunt reminder
To hold on to what’s dear
Or I could use it when I become the pusher
Making sure to strike between the ears
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