Imagine this:
We are in a car that is
plummeting over a cliff
after spinning through a guardrail
off an icy mountain road, and we know
that our time is hopeless
and about to end so
I stare at you intently while
the rocks below
come racing toward us.
Can you see the look on my face?
This is how I look at you
every morning
between 6:15 and 6:25,
10 minutes
of loving the gift of you
with my eyes,
as if I’m
about to lose you
and I need to sear your image
in my mind
so it will always be with me,
even in death.