A quiet moment,

Rarity, held in a palm;

A pulse,

Kept warm and safe;

Allowed to echo,

And, grow;

Into an enchantment,

Found within its song,

Now, cradling your soul;

Providing you solace,

Like a mother to a newborn,

Save, the roles have reversed in time,

The child has grown,

And, it is he who now holds your frail body,

Whispering words of comfort,

As you die.