Holding Poem by Smoky Hoss

As I die
will I recall at all
the last thing I'd held unto,
a hammer, a paint brush,
a steering wheel,
a glass of cool smooth whiskey,
or a pen?
Who ever truly knows the thoughts of any one else?
Still, somehow I can not help wondering,
somehow it does matter.

Perhaps,
the very last thing held
is the only thing ever held
that ever made a difference at all;
The love in the human heart, held for those
we leave behind, and hold onto
in the endless hope of holding them
(and being held by them)
once again, forever.

Faith, hope, love.
Three things well worth
holding onto.