A Poem

The thought occurred to me today, my love,

That you will die.

I prayed that I could go first,

but that would only leave you feeling as I.


I sometimes wonder about my death:

The setting, the circumstances, the inevitability.

But I cannot ponder your's, my love.

My insides ached, emptied

thinking for that second that I might be left behind.


If sooner or later,

I will never have enough time

To be with you.


I would gladly go first

To avoid being here without you.

But I have a better idea -

maybe we can both avoid the feeling:

We'll count to three

and never have to leave each other's side.