less of you

there is less
of you
each day, you
read in
a magazine
while waiting
at the doctor's
office
for a brief
visit.
less skin,
less bone, less
hair.
only the fat
from years
of eating
remains.
slowly you
disappear
into the vast
tomb of time,
the wind
carrying your ashes
across some
given shore,
your thoughts
and memories
rising into
the clouds,
unshared
forevermore.