With your hand in mine
My heart beats with the rhythms of eternity
As my mind permeates with tranquility
My every breath tears at my chest
As my legs, beg for a rest.
With your hand in mine
The world is not a cold, dead place
Not even the golden skies match your grace.
Statues once crippled and grotesque
In your presence suddenly turn picturesque.
With your hand in mine
Not a soul is left unloved.
Though as you keep your fingers gloved
So you keep secrets thoroughly locked
Yet your suffering never stopped.
Your father cried on the telephone
With news that chilled me to the bone.
Said your grief overtook your life
Found by your mother's kitchen knife.
A gust of freezing cold air whispered to me
In your voice not to forget what was once my plea
To continue onwards with steady gait
And not let your melancholy be my fate.
I lay your lifeless head on my chest
As feelings of guilt beg me to follow you.
And who in the world could ask me to resist?
But every moment spent was worth a lifetime
With your hand in mine.