Let It Go On and On and On
(for Linda Rose)
The busy weekend winds down,
And we sit near each other, watching television,
Saying nothing, my hand on your thigh.
All of a sudden, I realize how much I like
Being near you, being around you,
Even in sleepy silence, the workweek spent.
A terrible thought streaks across my mind like a shooting star:
How much more time do we have together?
What if you died? I see the stories so often,
Freak accidents, sudden illnesses, heart attacks, strokes,
As mysterious as the miracle of our births, so many years ago.
We are the results of one miracle after another.
And I treasure this miracle of being here, right now, with you.
Lord let it go on and on and on.
(Bob Coughlin
February 15, 2009)
[I hope the above poem doesn't strike one as too strange or too morbid. It's just a reflection on the shortness and fragility of life--and of our 31-year life together. The second stanza might seem strange. But the thought, "I realize how much I like / Being near you, being around you" struck me as suddenly and as stunningly as the fearful thought later in the poem, "How much more time do we have together?"]
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