In and out o' consciousness,
veil fluttering as weeping willows
dipping in the bottomless
darkness, of waters, endless shadows

sunlight flitting through their branches
playing gaily in thousand mirrors
scattered beyond crowded arches
o' supple boughs o'er flowing rivers

'Don't you love me?', the young son asked,
in faltering voice, eyes on the mask'd
face, wasted, wizened, not yet past
fifty years, of youth passed fast

as grey town pigeons fluttered by,
resting moments on the ledge,
until returning unto the sky,
perchance to nest and fledglings fledge

'Of-course I love you', came the answer,
out of body wrecked with cancer,
as the sun had broken free,
swept away the dark debris

briefly pierced the dinky room,
shooed away pallor of gloom,
soothing warmth of spirit's caress
eternal love in words express,

yet barely half an hour later
his soul ascended the elevator
unto the ***** of his Creator,
his gentle words a-bathe in ether