Through icicle window, shadow darkens the doorway. Father Time squares his hat, one more stop on his foray. Polite rap, take your time, the last night for you two. Scant surprise, we have known, our account coming due. I would have you jump one more time to my lap, scratch your ears, sing the song, close our eyes, have a nap, and dream that she plays, once again on piano, the chords of our lives, building now to crescendo. But you'll not jump, nor shall I stand. I reach for you. You nudge my hand. No strength remains, in either one. Beyond this act, our time is done. Pine scent frozen, bones buried in snow, will thaw in a spring, for others to know. Life spent in dread of the dawn of this day, time wasted, composing, last lines of this play. Fear rises like smoke, peace wraps firm embrace. Before the last breath, a warm glow, the new grace, of a spring warm and damp, with the smell of new rain, on a flowering meadow, fields flowing with grain. Come gently with me, little friend at my feet. If I'm gone before you, I will wait, we shall meet, at the bench on the lane, at the edge of the heather. I know the way home. We will go there together.
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This is just so heart-breakingly sweet, Jim. I love the changes you made on the final draft. The rhyming pattern was beautifully done. ( I know how hard that can be.) I hope they go together when they go. I hate to think of either of them left behind to mourn. Perfect photo, too.
What a sweet poem, such love shows through.