Living On Memories
Living On Memories
by Rick Rucker
There is a place inside of me,
A place that no one else can see,
A location hard to access,
As I use it less, and less.
It is where I keep my joy,
Once full, when I was a boy,
It seems to have sprung a leak,
The level of it is quite bleak.
I once did visit it all the time,
My life was just that sublime,
I once had the perfect life,
Perfect job, perfect wife!
How it changed, I do recall,
Storm clouds looming cast a pall,
“Your wife has passed out, hit her head,”
We’ll know in two weeks if she’s dead.
Neil Diamond tickets would have to wait,
Until we at least knew her fate,
How many times can one dodge a bullet,
When Fate, holding the trigger, decides to pull it?
One might rightly argue that she died,
Lying there, upon her side,
Her doctors did but what they could,
But the result wasn’t very good.
Against all odds, she had survived,
Her memory could not be revived.
At what point do you call a life?
And then start mourning your lost wife?
I promised that I would stay right here
Through all the pain, and fear
I knew our love would not be the same
I began to feel my loss, quite lame.
With God I had made a pact.
My last loving act
For her, I’d care, no matter what
Our vows did not include a “but.”
Not like “I’ll love you through thin and thick,”
“But surely not if you get sick.”
I did just what I said I’d do
I loved her, long and true!
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