Cold to the touch

The night my father died,

I watched how hard my mother cried.

She sat there in the middle of the floor in a pool of tears,

In complete discomposure she refused all volunteers.

She could not bring herself to accept that he was gone,

The total disbelief had just begun to dawn.

She wished so hard to hug him just one last time,

Her tall handsome Marine had been cut down in his prime.

I never knew that she loved him so much,

To still want to hold him after he was cold to her touch.

A truer and real love no one could ever wish to know,

It's a kind of love that time itself wouldn't overthrow.

I want to be in love with someone who cares that way about me,

Wouldn't you find it unbearable to abide in a life of prolonged misery?

It's the kind of love one searches for their entire life,

And even now for me after a second wife.

I'm still no closer to that love I seek,

I feel why ones heart-rending persona grows weak.

Funny how I didn't actually understand what a real love was all about,

But true real love I can say is love without any doubt.

Don't we all wish to feel love like that just as much?

But I think we would like to feel it before we're all cold to the touch.