His pale hands were chalky,
with that lack of life,
but the color briefly returned,
when he was around his wife,
married and together for over sixty years,
she loved him as she fought back the tears,
death approached,
it broke his sickly heart,
but he knew that it’ll take death,
to break them apart,
he offered no struggle,
considering his lack of strength,
she was not surprised she knew him that well,
if he had the strength he’d fight and that she could tell.
His hands tingling cold,
her eyes sadly red,
he reached over head,
to slip an arm around her back,
the desire to rush forward,
almost crushed his lungs,
he kissed her lips,
she closed her eyes,
young again briefly,
and the memories were so alive,
he was a good husband,
and the Lord knows he tried,
he had so many sicknesses and symptoms,
but on that day,
she was the one who died.