Just One Minute

If I had only one minute to live
and that time must be spent to say
whatever I’d like to give
my parents to hold forever, that day…

What would my choices be?

How could I fill that time,
for a girl made of words like me?
Should I choose something sublime?
I’d have to first thank them, I think.
For simply giving me life of their life,
for loving even when I was at my brink,
and holding on through many a strife.

I’d tell them I was glad for their choice
of raising a rather large brood.
For helping me  find my own voice,
Even though they’d often rather have, it, subdued.

Love, a few times, must find mention.
For I ache with a feeling of sadness
and these words do not decrease the tension
of considering my end: oh, such badness.

And I think whatever was left of my minute

Must be filled with me tightly clinging
To hold them and hope they feel all in my heart, within it.
And hopefully I’d die with it singing.

Energetically ringing of my love for my Mom and Dad.

Praising all that they did of what they could.
Hopefully they’d feel my heart clad
In all that they gave me of good.

For though they never were perfect,
They gave it all that they had.
And by their efforts in me did erect
a girl trying very hard not to be bad.

What more can one hope for?

What greater eulogy can there be?
Than to bring good and then more?
Nothing.  None.  It’s an impossibility.