by Ethel Mortenson Davis
His breathing
became ragged.
It was a rainy day.
At 6:00 p.m.
he passed away.
I was with him,
finally alone,
all afternoon.
I told him I was sorry
he had to endure
this ending.
A woman doctor
came up from
a different floor
to say to me
that when we die,
we choose the people
we want to be with.
