Up and down, his chest rises;

A slow rise and fall as steady as the waves on the ocean.

In and out he breathes,

And I watch. 

I'll watch his last breath, 

See the way it lingers in the cold air as his lungs come to a halt.

It may come now,

It may come in ten years,

But I'll watch. 

His breathing falters and so does mine. 

As if caught in the act, it resumes. 

I can breathe again. 

Every breath is louder than the last, 

A dull whine that was once mistaken for a snore but now resembles nails on a chalk board. 

A shiver runs down my spine with every rise and fall of his chest. 

I listen and I wait. 

The sun rises slowly and turns him into a silhouette, 

A still dark figure that barely moves. 

But as we are bathed in the sun's brilliant orange glow, I can breathe. 

The sun is up and he's made it through the night. 

He'll live another day.