>
That afternoon there were moments
Time outs from speaking, breathing
All that surfaced was a ticking
A tocking like a heartbeat
Thump, thump, thump
Like a metronome keeping pace
And we submitted to it
for what else was there
There was no DVD
there was no DVR
There was only us and him
and thoughts and prayers floating
He once again suspended future
and past and invited present
Oh what a gift it was
like eating breakfast on the beach
after a long arduous night
and light came softly
and spilled on us
through that window of
real time
For Dan Webb in the loss of his son.
Gerald the Writer 
>Reminds me of me as a young boy with asthma having difficulty breathing. I can remember my parents rushing me to the hospital as I gasped for air. I feel for this boy.
>My condolences. A very moving poem that makes one realize the importance of time spent and each breath.
>this left me a bit heavy…i am glad you could be in that moment no matter how hard it might be…
>Beautiful tribute.
>Sometimes a poem may be the best we can say. And this one was. Oh, my, Jerry, what can we say other than this poem?
>touchwood…i do hope the lil darling is fine now…
>There are many wounds in many wars and recovering from the loss of a child may be the hardest one of all to heal from. May your friend find his peace.
>It brought a lump in my throat…I feel for your friend…
>Swallowing hard here. You give the gift of love in these words. Coming alongside a friend in sorrow is such the hard work. So, so hard. You do it well, friend.
>oh jerry – just don't know what to say..glad you wrote so sensitive about him