A look beyond the shadows of death
invites a mistress to seduce the sorrow
still untapped, and measured in cold time
inside the collection of madhouse pleasures,
old age and youth holding frail hands,
the ending, the beginning always the same.

when I was eight you often told me,
“...stop eating just your fries,
and take another bite of your sandwich.”
now you are eighty-four, I say the same to you.

reading was always a thoughtful passion,
with lost eyesight, frustration came bashing;
diabetes has sent you on solo cruises,
up and down the muddy river of confusions,

the doubts, blending abstractions,
losing control of what is known,
the highs and lows, the changing soul,
preparing to be gone from my sight,

a sigh,

as you once watched over me
in this new world,
I am now watching you leave
this cruel world.