Finite Days.

A sticking plaster life ripped away in an instant

Leaving behind a healed scratch

That will fade in time.

This is no life lived, it is a shallow existence,

Not through any fault but years lived.

You were not here long enough

To make more than a fleeting impression,

To graze the surface.

A poor child in this life,

A victim of chance and change

And to circumstances beyond any control.

I blinked and missed your entrance and exit,

But I saw your epitaph, and it broke my heart.

I could see the stolen time,

The future that will never be.

I would give you what is left of my years

Just so you could live that little bit more,

To appreciate the life and love,

The tears and the heartache,

To see the finite day and understand what it means.

I have had fifty dark December days like this,

I may have another twenty more

Where you had but nineteen of them.

I should cherish every drop of rain

On this miserable Winter’s day

But life continues on and we complain,

We continue to worry about circumstances

Beyond all control

And it was these same circumstances

That cut your life so short.

I am so sorry.