In the Meantime

In the meantime, we sit and wait

With borrowed skin and bones, threadbare and fragile as your old plaid shirt;
With bated breath;
With failing memories and forgotten names;
With cancer and a poison that attempts to push back such darkness;
With loss of independence, loss of feeling in extremities, and loss of control;
With a hunching over of body, a narrowing of your world;
With sometimes confusion, a moment a clarity, a bit of anger muddled with bitterness;
With an inkling of hope; it sure is small.
Its a hard thing to be; a hard thing to watch.
You're not gone yet; I miss you.

For hours,
For days,
For final rescue,
We sit and wait.