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My precious

This morning, I cried.
Over foggy coffee, fiddling with my phone,
I watched a woman in her hospital bed wake up with new lungs.
How long she bore the breathing mask I do not know.
There were doctors and family gathered ’round.
They took off her mask and said “breathe”.
Her eyes.  Her eyes as she looked from one to another.
She looked as if she would cry from joy.

I cried because she made me realize how precious our time is.
She had surely looked death in the face, and was reborn.

All of my aches, pains, complaints, all of my worldly sins,
I can bear perhaps a little more easily now,
after seeing this angelic scene.

Someone once said Go, and sin no more.
Our lives are worth so much more.

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Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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