You always liked lightning, took chances in the rain, hands catching drops.

When you got sick I was your beacon, your rock.

I never thought it would come down to you,lying in that metal hospital bed, coma-silent.

Breath comes in waves crashing on rocks.                          We count them per minutelike thunderclaps between a storm.

I hold my breath, see how long I can last without air.        Know once the thunder stops I’ll be here alone,           counting storms and breaths and it won’t matter a damn.

But I’ll try to be the lighthouse you said I was.

Keep watch as you sail along the sea on your journey.

My light will blast across waterlike gentle arms stroking your face once again. Your hands outreached and that smile      lighting up the place.