If you knew then
  that the last embrace was the LAST time you will be in her arms
would you have hugged a little tighter

If you knew then
  that the last fight was the LAST time you disagreed with her
would you have been more forgiving

If you knew then
  that the last dance was your LAST time you would be in her arms
would you have danced a little longer

If you knew then
that the last gift was the LAST gift you would ever give her
would you have put in a little more thought  into the present

If you knew then
that the last stroll together was the LAST time you walked hand in hand
would you have walked a little further

If you knew then
  that the last time you saw her smile was the last time she smiled back at you
would you have captured the moment forever in your heart

If you knew then
   that the last time she cried on you shoulder was the LAST time she would need your support
would you been more understanding and supportive

If you treat every moment
  as possibly the last moment
would you not then LIVE in the MOMENT?

My end is so near, yet I feel no fear.
I lay there in soft bed of white clouds,
Above all that used to be my life.
From the towering heights,
my worries, my whims and my wants,
felt so minuscule and trivial.
But what glitters are the bread crumbs
that I laid along the path of life.
The fleeting moments that shaped me,
those failures that made me,
those friends always beside me,
Egging me to reach where I wanted to be.
For now when my mind is weak and my body frail,
what remains are the bread crumbs
   that I leave along the trails.

Sitting in a yellow room
I look at your face and your mouth.
Your lips move and I hear your story,
I'm interested, maybe,
only for a while.

I like to talk about myself,
I talk and I see you smile.
But maybe you get bored soon
and we're sharing nothing but time
together, sitting across each other.

Two hours pass and your duty calls
or maybe it is saturation.
It could be that you've had your fill
and need to leave me right now.
I wonder how I'm always left
empty, somehow.

I close the door after you,
the door with the white paint.
It stares at me with an expression frozen
blank,
articulating nothing.
How is it that the closed door
seems to understand me
more, than those I cherish conversations with.

Are you my friend or just some time
spent, in discovering myself?