I interviewed a woman,
With an illness in her heart,
I was there to ask her questions,
But didn't know quite how to start.
How do you ask a person,
Who can count their time that's left,
Which moments they regret in life,
And which ones they liked the best?
I didn't know quite how to ask her,
If she could give me some advice,
When I was given my whole life to live,
And she'd only got a slice.
I was scared that she would judge me,
For wasting minutes of her time,
So I asked her just one question,
As I heard her old clock chime,
I asked her what it felt like,
Knowing that so soon she would die.
And as she told me her short answer,
She looked me straight into the eye,
"I might know my time is ending,
But pity for you is all I've got,
Since I wake knowing that I'm dying.
But you wake pretending that you're not."
-e.h