The moment where life stops.
People stop. I stop.
My memories wait in front of me.
I take a step closer, analyzing.
Analyzing.
My life flashes before my eyes. That’s what they call it.
That’s not what it’s called.
The moment where you’re faced with death,
You dive deeper and deeper into your past,
Slowly taking in every breath,
Until you’re slowly taken by your very last
Breath.

My mind fills.
Miraculous images.
The first time I saw her:
Golden hair,
Green Eyes,
Those gorgeous green eyes,
Our wedding day,
That dress that floated along the floor,
Petals in her hair,
Those green eyes.
Time.

The instant inevitable interruption of time.

I returned from war.
Disgust and despair flow out of my lungs in anguish only to see her,
Sweet summer dress
That emphasizes her smile.
Her great green eyes.
The grace of our united embrace.
I’d never leave again.
Until now.
Time.

I see her struggle,
Brought only by the cry of a miracle.
Held in my arms,
The daughter of courage.
I hold her tighter and she looks at me.
Up, up ,up, at me.
My miracle, at me,
With those beautiful green eyes.
I never miss a thing.
Not a thing. Not a thing.
Time.

That day.
She’s sick.
The first,
Mother of my miracle.
Daughter grown and now all alone.
Not a thing. Not a thing.
Greeting my miracle at the end.
I’m ready now.
I’ve seen it all.
Nothing left, but what’s to come.
What is to come?

Those graceful green eyes.
Breath.