Sarah always came home drunk,
She was more like the punk,
Eva was,peaceful like the monk!
Devoid of all the world’s audible junk..
She was more like the punk,
Eva was,peaceful like the monk!
Devoid of all the world’s audible junk..
The world was a blunt place to Sara,
Loving and adventurous to Eva.
The sisters complementary,
Their love for each other had no boundary.
Sara ‘s health was failing,
Like a young bud dying before blooming .
Eva now forlorn and devastated.
Now more to god she was dedicated..
Sara lied down, lethargic.
She was as cold as the arctic.
Her tormenting mind now quiet , at ease,
But she wanted Eva to hear the breeze,
clinging of the keys, buzzing of the bees.
It was now all quiet for Sara ,
Her own sobbing, deafening for Eva.
Sara’s death filled sound in Eva’s ears.
Sara s cochlea now hers.
New senses filled in Eva,
She valued her life even more for she now was Eva and Sara .
Written for Thomg’s 3WW week #405 and Poetry Jam (Prompt: Quiet )
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