In the end I would be there,
wrinkled I know, loving every inch of our visible age
in the end I would look at you sagging and see the same beauty I see now, inside
in the end I would stop in the same awe as now at your insight and irony
in the end I would laugh and be bolstered by your improvisation
in the end I would hold your body and bring it back to life with my hands
in the end I would nourish your being with gifts of the earth to sustain you
in the end I would cook you a feast that would allow you to pass upward in sleep
in the end I would read you a poem that I wrote to remember your value to me
in the end I would sing you a song in public
in the end I would carve sounds that would open any gate to any heaven
in the end I would hold on desperately to your life and memory and legacy
in the end I would be as I am now,
in constant care of love
in the end I would be receiving with humility your nature and lifelong path
in the end I would be giving in constant motion to secure the reality of living
in the end I would still challenge you to find and follow your muse with diligence
in the end I would look forward again to your daily insightful and gentle nourishment
in the end I would rub your feet and let you know that you have worked enough
in the end I would be your companion in transition and accept that death will come
in the end dearest one
in the end

K. Roberti