evanesce

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( for Mom )

I’ll treasure dear while growing old
          I clasped your hand til it waxed cold
               a warm so gifted - touch and breath
     thus torn from me by time and death

no quarter mine should find that gone
          I grasped quite desp’rate, holding on
               what sweet, the reaper robbed me of
     your glow of closeness, coursings, love

but while your heat slow-slipped away
          I cursed your lord should find you stay
               for what good, gods or peace or calm
     when gone, the warmth your tiny palm?

oh Mom, your death is owed such costs
          they’ve found me broken, bleak and lost
               l’m scared what left as you ebbed cold
     were precious things that kept me whole

now I’ll not find, through gain or cause
          those dear things made me who I was
               that my heart’s doomed, whate’er I do
     too much of mine left then … with you

dear heav’n, please tell me that’s … not …

          true.

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