Eighteen today,
a day old,
she died.
Memories so vivid, yet
faraway, her
memorial day
Tubes intruding,
restraining the life, she
was leaving.
Worked all night throughout
our vigil, her visit
so fleeting.
When it was over
Nothing to say but pray
for grace to comfort those
distraught by our loss.
After the service
I lifted alone,
the little white box
that
Took her away with
part of me that died too
that day.
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