As I lay dying, I remembered you.
I wanted you to know, but also knew,
it didn't matter, news would filter through,
or not, but time takes care of what is true,
and dying, truth is obvious and all.
I felt you with me. You were there and I
could hold your hand, could touch that silky skin
again, and all I never thought to try
was tried, remembered, loved, and held within
a shared, a conjured gospel of recall.
As I lay dying, I abandoned pain
and hope. Within my chest the air
diffused, sunlight transfused me, through my veins.
I didn't float. I was. And you were there.