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I Held Her Dying Hand
written by: Stanley Wilkin
I held her dying hand in the wizened morning light
I studied the shrinking life in her eyes.
The woman I loved would not last out the night
Her groaning breath now fierce sighs.
The weakening flame in the quiet breeze
Matches her dying
Her beautiful face like an ephemeral goddess in a marble frieze,
Riven with crying.
Her beauty had aged, not gone,
Her white hair falling down like fresh-cast snow;
Her eyes that once shone
Filled now with a frosty glow.
Soul and body fade away=
The mind is a strip of celluloid,
With diminishing returns. Nothing will stay,
But pass infinitely into a void.
In the end, all that lingers is love
Like a diminishing beacon through time,
No matter how complete, never enough,
In life, verse, prose and rhyme.