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DEATHLESS

Your mother dead,
             lying in bed,
you sitting there,
          holding her hand,

as if nothing could be
                  more natural,
    just friends for

eternity, a companion
         on her journey to
    new worlds, where the
only language spoken
             is still

   love.



For Sandy Shea
and in memory of
Harriet Puffer Shea
December 31, 2000

 


All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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