Twilight vigil by her bed
Remembrances of life with her
The songs she used to sing
With her veined hand in my own
I whisper to her many things
While she dreams her dying dreams
Her breath is a faint sigh that slows
With each rise and fall of her chest
Until at last I see it’s still
And as I sit, our hands still joined,
In my heart I think I hear again
The sweetness of her song