The best part of dying

It’s not the way you brush my teeth

Nor the way you comb my hair

It’s not the way you hold my hand

Not the way you’re always there

It’s nothing to do with the sympathy you bring

Nor the flowers on the table, nor my finger bound by ring

It’s not the way you sit there, whispering sweet nothings for me to hear

Nor the way you sleep, breathing softly in my ear

It’s not the hugs, nor kisses

Nor any affection you might show

It’s not the way you touch my face

Nor how I never hear the word no

It’s not how you’re there in the pale light of morning

Through the harsh gold rays of noon

No, my love, the best part of dying-

Is just spending time with you

~ Finé ~