In My father's Car (I see him as old)

In my father's car

Driving somewhere,
Where I forget;
I see him as old.
The mortality spreading
Like spiderwebs
Out from heavy eyes
And running to his cheek.
I know he thinks of death.
Not in any discrenable way,
But in his knotty hands
Which his eyes linger upon
Too often as he drives.
I think of him, cold
And lifeless laid out in a
Casket wrought by my hands
In mourning; it's a promise
He mentions more than
A younger man would.

I see death, and I am afraid.
It's slender hand upon my shoulder
And my heart curls around
Thoughts of my father. That
Day which will come, that day
Which grows closer every time
I see his hands upon that wheel,
Knottier than the last. I think,
"will I be able to count back to
this visit, the number of times
I spent with him".
I do not want my father to die.