My soul is mellow br The hues of this eve sallow br And the old moon a queer br Shade of yellow. br br Your life seems to be drifting br On a stream so silent br That my breathing seems labored br My heartbeats clamored br My pulse like a hammer br Against the cool routine br Of your dispassion. br br Did i tell you I’m dying dear? br Did that not come up br In the course of the conversation br We were having over dinner? br Oh don’t bother to waste a tear br I shall not linger longer br Than your patience br Could persevere br I know how things br Out of the commonplace br Irk you so very much, my dear br And so, I’ve made it clear br To my doctor, Peter Peirce, br That no ventilator br Or resuscitation required, br No chances at life needed here. br br br to the apathy and loveless years of a stale marriage...i see it happen and i dread ever having to feel that kind of apathy for a loved one.