(In happy, sad memory of all of the girls, women, and ladies I have loved)

I must cut through the strife of my limited life.
I must fill every flying hour,
As full with living as I can fill it, with my limited power.
Today I will do whatever I can do,
And I will do the best that I can.
For Shakespeare wrote, so worthy of note--
In Romeo and Juliet--
The truth about my limited time, like a background chime,
Soft and fragile with mortal music, moving my brief life-span;

The death-bell that distantly tolls, for someone else: but also for me;

Gentle tolling, fatal tolling, that tells the ticks of time--
Like hour-glasses that sifted ancient moments like sand.
The same hour-glasses now bleed my life-drops with a deadly gland;
Grain by grain, they drain my shortened life, breaking my life-plan.
My broken heart-beats sound always, and will not let me forget:
No more Romeo; no more Juliet.

No more lover’s love is left for me.
All that's left me is the painful power of Shakespeare's pun,
To remind me that my life is nearly done;
The tearful fearful brine of this lachrymal line:
"Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man."


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Written by Michael LP, aka MLP
aka PoetWithCancer, aka PWC, aka Mr. Poet
Copyright (C) 2011 by Michael L.P.  All rights reserved