Stop all the clocks....

By the lamp's soft glow 

I sit and I knit;

 a stitch for each laboured breath

you take, 

as the click of the needles 

and tick of the clock

measure time slipping away

Clock ticks, needles click; 

a pump whirs and flashes

 in synchronised rhythm.

Dark hours pass,

to the low rasp of breath

of a life not yet extinguished

The clock stops,

 needles lie still;

no longer clicking to the tick.

Breath fades 

and all is silent