Poetry

At a hospital bed there are people praying
while they sit on hard benches like those that are harassed
and a pleasant little girl lies unconscious and soundless,
with her face behind a white mask of pain.
 
There are drops flowing into an intravenous apparatus, drop upon drop,
a monitor measuring her heartbeat constantly
and this picture I cannot forget,
as I see her frolicking past in my thoughts
 
with blue eyes that laugh full of joy,
like a ray of sun on each new morning,
as a picture of energy
and now she has gone to silence as if death is waiting.