Does it hurt?
The slow loss of
Like age spots,
But more beautiful.
Your luminosity steals my breath
(A harbinger of approaching death)
Until a hard freeze, a strong wind,
A punishing rain
Breaks your weakening grip
And sends you tumbling to earth
Where we’ll lie still and molder
Until then, resisting, I protest and groan.
Your rustling last days look like
I only hope my pain,
Through the prism of soul,
Blazes as brightly as yours.
Joni Sensel writes for Fortune 100 companies, young readers, and you amid work on a memoir about love, intuition, and loss. Read more of her work on Medium: