Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

it seems unfair to me sometimes
that life has to end.
i hold you in my sight
paused in motion
refusing to forget the patterns of your face
youth only fades
yet noone wants to fathom
what age portrays
watching you now, at age 22,
your ceaseless movements
both delicate and benign,
you are locked in with a click like a mechanism
implanted within my shaking mind.
anchored in my thoughts
afraid i may lose sight,
dreading what is inevitably to come,
our ancient human rite.
what is it we have really
but phases full of longing,
short lifetimes of solitude,
then subsequent terms of bliss
it seems strange to say that i am not sorry 
for little secret moments such as this.
i will not apologize
for having lived and hoping to live long
nor argue choice or afterlives
or hear you claim im wrong.
it seems we believe in nothing more
than dirt and cold and brine
i believe in the simple glory of your hands 
large and gregarious inside my small ones, 
eternity proven,
entwined.

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