Slowly Slipping Away

So much has been written about life slowly slipping away.
It’s January Thirty-One; it will be gone in a day —
but we experience it this whole day as it slips away.
Sometimes I think I wouldn’t mind a bit
of slow slipping away,
because death always seems to come to me suddenly,
in less than a day.
I’d love to sit and hold a warm hand turning
cold
and have time to tell that person how much
love in my heart for him or her I hold;
instead it’s a note on a table or
it’s a call on the phone
abruptly announcing that my loved one is gone.
Ironically, when I go, I want to go fast;
but then, perhaps, my loved ones
would like me to last
at least until they could say goodbye and hold
my warm hand turning cold.

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