Appointed hour ‘tis now so near at hand
All thoughts suspend until (said) outcome’s clear
‘Adagio for strings’ doth play at heart’s command
Precursor to held Prayer which stills my fear
Midst troubled world and all that such entails
I walk with friends immersed in sim’lar plight
Amongst their woes, mine own (in truth) then pales
Tis but for me, just one more foe to fight
Crescendo builds o’er steady rhythmic beat
‘Vibrato’ stirred by Cello’s drawing breath
No score twill keep, ‘cept penned on music sheet
Should days be numbered ‘countless’ after death
As swaying hands conduct with Surgeon’s skill
I can but try, thru ‘life’ – His hopes fulfil