coma ❀ michael clifford ❀ book three

sunflowers.

on the fourth day, i brought michael sunflowers.

they were yellow, happier than anyone in this damn hospital,

and i was praying they were contagious.

i'd stopped by our house on the way back to the hospital,

and i'd grabbed my guitar.

every time i'd play at home, michael would stop whatever he was doing to listen to me play.

it didn't matter what it was, he loved it all.

and that was my intent when i brought my guitar today,

i was ready to do anything to encourage him our of his slumber,

no matter how crazy the doctors there thought i was.

but after three songs,

his eyes were still closed.

sincerely,

koda.

-

im sad this series is almost over