Death’s Cold Mist.

Think of me.

In case I go

Some dark horizon beckoning

For some days it comes closer

But my heart is always with you

Even in deaths cold mist

My memory fading

My words becoming fainter

… with my voice

My image with you but my touch no more

… upon you.

But still I will be with you

Whispering faintly my endearments to you

Echoing in corridors of your mind

Think of me in that light summer breeze

A touch.

Think of me as it gently whispers in the trees

My voice

I leave you.