Coffee pot gurgle
vibrates through this old house.
Death waits at the door.
Misty eyed and lumps in our throats,
we trudge along with our hearts in our stomachs.
Every ring of the phone stops us in our tracks,
afraid to answer, afraid not to, not wanting to know.
We remember. We laugh. We cry.
We know we all must die.
We either think too much or our minds are blank
as seconds turn to minutes and drift into hours.
Hour by hour the day finally ends,
and we are thankful it wasn’t today.
We toss. We turn. We weep.
We do what we can to sleep.
Days don’t erase the pain,
nor does pain numb the soul.
We do what we must. We carry on.
With or without us, time keeps ticking.
We live. We love. We feel.
This nightmare is all too real.
We will continue to laugh and cry,
and all in between until we die.