I must not lose you; you must keep my hand

And not be lost. It would not take so much-

A going further than some stroll we planned,

A sleeping so you could not feel my touch.

And then forever not to have you near.

Forever not your voice, only the things

That would so stab and stab me, being dear,

The least or greatest of rememberings.

Yet I had rather wake like that, and live,

Day after day, if I bore all the pain,

Than think of you, knowing I could not give

Even an answer, though you called again,

Frightened and lost, and listening for my word,

Calling again, thinking I had not heard.