Sometimes I’m aware
mine could be
the last hand
you hold.
my ability to stay
for death
is strange.
whoever
you are
or
however
i arrived
by your side,
i won’t let go.
i will guide you to
the threshold
wait to see you
off
watch as friends gather
to welcome you
then
walk to my
car
alone
unsure of voice
wondering how
i landed in such
an honorable
spot.
The Last Hand You Hold
13 Friday Jan 2012
in
there is an old Italian toast
” one hundred years, and may my face be the last you see.”
I have always loved it .
Ooh thats pretty. Mine toast will be: “One hundred years and may the last dish you have be linguine vongole.”
Not sure if this is referencing your mother, a friend, or your man…but I enjoyed the piece.
Just thoughts on human touch.
Walter, you always speak from the heart and what a beautiful heart it is.
Thank you.