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He did not stir I tiptoed into the room with care, stood alongside his bed. Smoothed his soft blonde hair. He was my one beloved. He did not stir. I folded the blanket down, caressed his brow with fingertips. There was no trace of a frown I sighed a whisper upon his lips. With a hush I said "I love you." Gently kissed his pale cheek held his hand, as ever I do. With arid throat tried to speak. He did not stir. "Sleep serenly my sweet." Tears brimed, I inhaled a sob, spirt spent, legs so weak. My pulsating heart began to throb. Heavy this great burden, emptiness like a barren cup. "Please poke a hole in heaven reach down and pull me up." He would never stir. |
Additional Notes:
Written about the night my husband passed away.
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