Thoughts about death and love...

If, one day, I find myself and old & wrinkled man
Sitting, starched upright in the white cell of a hospital
And in my brown and blotchy hand is yours, emaciated, slowly pulsing
Your life force ebbs as what the cancer does not steal, you give freely in the form of love
Then I shall remember our first separation
And the weeks we spent preparing for it.
Together in a clinical chamber we shall gird ourselves for a longer absence, if infinity can be given a length.
Not with the athletic vigour of youth, tubes and wires are all we would tangle,
But in our minds, re-living those times, we will be as ready as ever we shall.


And if it is you, guiding my funeral barge from one world to the next,
Then I know that in the touch of your fingers on mine we will feel the tingle of eternal love.