Brittle Tether

The journey is almost over for you.
   I sit beside you with
     silence and
     prayers for the dying.
On your wall hangs a painting:
   A garden of azeleas,
     purple, red, yellow and white.
   A curving path runs from background to foreground
     between them.
   In the background two sentinel trees
     -- the only gateway -- barrier free --
     welcome strollers onto the path.
Beyond between the sentinels
   I see you stand on the path
   waiting to be embraced by the azeleas'
     beauty and color.
   A tether of dried-up, brittle vines
     holds you stopped at the crossing.
Soon, though, the tether will full away ...

©2010, John A. Mills