(Another day I almost died)
Thank God for every single breath,
a sliver's slice, twixt life and death.
A fulcrum pin that holds at bay,
Paper thin this precious day.
A mirror's width and single glance,
Shallow scratch sans happenstance.
"This is your's", I declare.
Never before so awe-aware.
Each light lung-full anther gift.
As clay ribs draw and lift.
Alive, I inhale, again.