Here it was, the last act!
Your stubborn mind
crept for years, forgetting that it is not
easy to recite (write) the final words of you
when genetics signed the end.
The slight shaking of your left
hand, pushed up against the paper
for the final time as the index
and the thumb decided
it was enough.
A crack in your voice
eager to convince the rest of us
of the finality your words could hold
you had something left to say.
The reduction of you
was swift, laid across newspaper, time stamped and closed.
The only remnant willing to connect you
and I together was the ink
that would smear when the slightest of pressure was applied
against the letters of your name.