A Drawn Out Passing

For my ex-wife's father, Bill.

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So much endured
   to fiercely cling
to an ember in ashes
   flickering

Doubled over,
   short of breath,
each swollen step
   is aching torture.

Trying to grasp present faces,
   memories fleeting, found, then lost
like the fading foam
   of a beer glass emptied.

Is it so precious,
   or fear of dark,
or a debt unpaid
   what force drives you?

To strain your sight,
   your mind, your will,
holding fast, slipping away
   from such a labored life.