i can feel time fleeting by

every time i touch your tender warm hands

i try and not think about it

but an image springs to my mind

your hand, in the warm earth, just bones in a few years

no blood running through those veins

and you gone

why must i think of death ever so often

like a spider obsessed with his web

i can feel the two of us living in a bubble

Waiting for it to burst

happiness must be short-lived after all

misery seems to be for eternity, as they warned

your laughter and your arms around me

and the picture of me alone in an unknown world

far away from you and everything we knew 

and you, lost and gone forever

and what we had just a memory of time, no longer ours

and bizarrely, things move as slow and as fast as time

the end nearer, like a glass on the edge...about to break

must death bring with it such mystery

and yet absolute certainty 

and what will i do without your body

that warm mass of flesh...that ever so loving, caressing form

something tells me death is going to be a cold place

 so every sunshine is littered with stray thoughts

and every time i look at you, with so much love

i can see beyond, into the terrifying uncertainty