Bury Me Under a Coffee Tree

I’ll be dead soon.

Not that I foresee any event in particular that may cause my imminent passing but rather;

It seems like-

Afternoons of play and bedtime stories were just the other day.

The nights are all a blur and I can’t seem to shake the crippling fear that all moments are fleeting.

I guess we only know the worth of a thing when it’s gone. So for every happy minute of every gleeful day that passes, I am all the wiser.

Loss lets you remember to linger on the sweet things.

Each morning that I awake alone I sip my coffee in silence, savoring the bitter burn across the surface of my tongue with the knowledge of a coming day in which I won’t be able.

There will be a time when I am toothless

When the lining of my stomach is worn and weak, and my heartbeat frail.

When my bones will ache

My hands shake

And I’ll be told I can’t have things that make my heart race.

So when the cold winds blow across my cracking face, I don’t rush for warmth anymore.

No-

I find comfort in feeling.

And when the sun beats above my cheeks I think, how nice it would be if the sun could beat just a little bit longer.

If sunrise could take just a minute more-

But it seems that all moments are fleeting.

Every single one,

And I am learning to love them for what they are.