You are with me again, your eyes supplicating, then the skin of our spirits clash in a loving embrace which my body does not risk.
I love you. I will always love you. I want to cup your face in my hands, run my fingers down the lines in your cheeks, furrowed since last we met.
I crave to take back the years, change the pattern of time and live in you, thrive in you, die in you, and when our bones crumble to dust I want the wind to lift us, so I may fly with you
My daughter clasps my arm and my heart separates.
I chose my fate forty years ago and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Rather than break your family I made my own, but I beg for a short time with you, so she backs away as I drop a promise in her eyes. I will not uninvent my children.
Your arms wrap around me. Cheek to cheek we speak in single words representing sentences, paragraphs, chapters of our loss. Our mouths meet, eager for one final kiss, but as our lips touch you fall asleep.
The phone rings, waking me, and a voice steals you from me, calling me back from your cooling jaws.
Fear drags at me as the tears form.
Was this a dark dream or did you die in my arms?
©Jane Paterson Basil