Slow Dancing With Death

Sometimes living with chronic illness is a fight.

He pulls me close,
then,
lets me go,
I want to stay he,
seems to know.

That my heart is taken
by this little life I created.
I will not forsake this little,
seed of hope I've cultivated,
I'll battle every storm that rages,
stay the course,
no matter how life engages,
in all manner of tests,
and challenges.

He draws me close,
with a beckoning finger,
I twirl away, I can not linger,
he truly sees me, that spectral shade,
every scar, every pain, of all that I'm made,
I must fiercely, guard this little,
life that I shape.

We spin around the ballroom floor,
in an endless draw,
as he leads me to his door,
once more.




'I Am a Town' prompt
"The One-Line Lyric Challenge"