Please, don’t grieve for me, for

My heart still beats,
Though it may be slow and soft,
Though it may moan with age,
Alas it moans the same,
If you are willing to listen.
Please, don’t lose patience with me,
For the lungs that took breath in spring,
Still fill with air in winter,
Though their shallow, labored task
Can be ignored if you
Do not stop to look.
Please, believe in me,
Though at times my words are crossed,
And perhaps I may get confused,
The pieces of my story remain true,
And can yet be assembled,
If you truly try.
Please, look into my eyes,
As blurry my vision may be,
I can still see myself and all I was,
Amidst your gaze, and though
This may frighten you,
Don’t look away.
Please, hold my hand,
My joints have rusted beyond use,
But my nerves endless feel,
The familiar warmth of your fingers,
So though I cannot hold you back, still
Hold me.
Please, comfort me, for though
My heart still beats,
I can feel it, slower and softer,
Dragging down deeper, until all is
Night and finally you are allowed to
Grieve.