It didn't feel like long enough.

Yet it felt like more years, 66,

than it should have to make things right.

I miss that I will never embrace her again.

She reached 66.

Yet it has been many years

since our last embrace.

I miss that she will never again 

tell me that she's proud of me.

After she reached 66.

I wonder,

was she proud of me?

I miss that she will never again

say she loves me

and I know she did when 

she was 66.

But I think she still would have

cause me harm.

It's hard to know since

Death imparted it's kiss

at 66.