Whistled awake from sleep
by the sweep of the reaper’s scythe
as it grazes my brow
for now I am alive, but in it’s wake
follow the faces of those now absent
either by circumstance or his hand

Out of sorts, my psyche shivers,
my stomach quivers digesting
what if’s and when’s
the narrow escape rapes my sense
of tomorrow and it’s possibilities

emotions slither along my skin
cause goose bumps , deliver tears to my eyes
as mortality clears the horizon
too soon for my liking, looks back
over it’s shoulder, pauses in recognition
waits for me to catch up

One moment more, I ask
to bask in the presence of those I love
to assure them, myself
we were more than a memory
we were building blocks
essential to each other’s existence

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