Sitting on the windowsill,
Swallowing what could be her last cancer pill.
As she gazed at the raindrops,
She wondered if this was the Maker’s will.
Her thoughts soon drifted into apathy,
As her folks observed her with sympathy.
From her nostril emerged what was ‘merely’ a cancer tube,
But for her, there was no breathing substitute.
She pondered if she can sample the petrichor again,
Her dreams were to be wealthy, but not vain,
To buy diamonds, pearls and other objects of desire
To be widely famous and turn out in her best attire.
But now she dreamt of seeing another dawn,
She craved but another starry night.
With great effort, she covered her mouth to veil a yawn,
Recalling father-daughter conversations under the moonlight.
And these were her dreams now,
It was all she needed now.
She dreamt of strolling once again on London Bridge
Her life flashed – the entire story as if abridged.
Her father would make her laugh,
Until her stomach did ache.
More familiar now was a radiograph,
If only this disease she could overtake.
She recalled her father’s polite demeanour,
How they’d lay sprawled on the dewy grass,
If only there could now be a redeemer,
Maybe her father could heal her scars.
Camping trips were so much fun,
Making tents under the toasty sun,
Marshmallows they’d roast and savour,
Alas, the odds were no longer in favour.
It is a dream she had long nurtured,
It was her only idea of happiness,
Of simple pleasures with her father,
Of bedtime stories and guffaws of laughter.
She yearned once again to dance,
She hoped but this was all a trance.
From which she’d wake and be able to roam,
And create a ballroom to call their own.
Deep in thought, she looked upon her frivolous ways,
She made her final wish, an effort she made to wave.
And in that din, she asked her father through her daze,
“Place your picture, will you, upon my grave?”
She could no longer feel her lungs,
She felt extremely languorous,
And then she slipped into the abyss,
She’d lost the will to be courageous.
And those were her dreams,
There was nothing more she needed now.
A beautiful life gone downstream,
For this was the Maker’s will, to Him we shall all bow.