The cold air rattles the thin body encasing your lungs

As you struggle, yet again,

To snatch another breath.

Sitting up at night I wonder painlessly

How many left?

You are so small, the size of doll,

Stretched out fingers wrapped around mine

Pale, the colour of the bed sheets.

I hope.

One day you'll grow.

You hold me as I hold you,

Neither cries, not quite yet,

Neither speaks, in case we do.

I can feel your heart beat through my chest.

It's cold.

We were both so young when this began.

And you're almost the same as then.

Smaller, paler, weaker, colder,

But now death's creeping closer,

And each night tucks us in.