The while I live,
Help me now
To not forget,
Afore I reach
I’m not to feel
Being near,
Or ever more
Able to hear
A voice so dear,
Nor taste again
The love of you,
The while I muse
Be cause regret,
Precious days
I might neglect,
To tell of ways
I loved you then,
The while I lived
This side of when,
Till I should reach
That quite place!
Poetry on a canapé 
Very moving poem
Marianne
Once in a while, though more and more difficult now a day, one tries to put aside the issues of cruelty, that composes man’s political self-serving goals and indifference to his fellow beings in the process. Thus so, if but to remember that most of us are not anywhere near being of that ilk of creature, and hence poetic expression must not stray too far from what true and real people experience of meaningful importance. Jean-Jacques Fournier
The reply to the comment worth almost the poem. Almost !
Well… almost in this instance I must say is good, so I take this too as a positive, as well, as was the original comment. Merci! Jean-Jacques Fournier