Darling, love, sweet lullaby,
I don't know what it's like to die.
Will it take long? Will it hurt? 
Will I just turn into dirt?
Will I still remain your wife,
And reunite in afterlife? 

Dearest treasure, sweetie pie,
Will you promise not to cry?
Will you try with all your might
To stay strong when I see the light?
Will you please hold your head high,
And certainly from pain not shy?

Though ignorant, I do know this-
Escaping is a sheerest bliss,
Not well afforded in one's life
For pride does come before all strife.
Though not deserving,  I suppose
I'll merit an early repose.

Angel with those eyes so sweet,
Please pray it to be swift and neat.
With pen in hand and tears in eyes,
I write to you 'fore my demise-
If wait you must, then be content,
Live life full and then ascend.

You awake in me the same excitement as the sound of the coffee *** bravely bubbling up something inside like the elixir of life that makes day-to-day, tedious trials more bearable.
Thousands of cups of coffee shared with you, talking out problems and people, with one rule: No pity parties at Purdy's, so we'd take walks.
Walks and talks and walks and talks, getting to know you, and me. Getting to know the feeling of Richmond beneath our feet, and we were free. Save, one passing comment on the adrenals and caffeine.  
And unknowingly, you taught a broken girl how to trust. Taught her that growing together with someone, like good coffee, is not something that should be rushed.