I sit here and look at you sleeping. The doctor has spoken and left us to be alone. You awake and smile at me; Without a word, we talk with our eyes in silence, for an hour.
Two great writers, we have written at tale of love. A story to be read by every individual, in their own way. Together now, we write the last scene.
You Lay your hand out and I put mine in yours. I hold your hand, like you have held mine before; Those restless nights you comforted me with sleep, now I return the favor. With a settling breath you drift away.
It seems life has decided I cannot follow you on this journey; Cruel but kind, it grants us a meeting place. It is where long conversations took place on dark nights; I hear our voices laden with tiredness and tea. I squeeze your hand, before I say goodnight.
The last few lines I love^^) a good write! I felt his pain and mild peace of him knowing what was going to happen... Sad indeed:( but poems don't have to be happy, and this one does a good job of letting us feel his sadness, but not in an overwhelming manner. Very nice job:3