evanesce

( 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.