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8:14 a.m.

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Cold wind in my face,
Heart pounding.
I stop to get water,
I look up at the clock,
It says it is 8:14 a.m.,
But it can’t be.
I look up into the stands,
Marty is nowhere in sight.
I go to the door,
I peer down the stairs,
But there is no Marty there either.
Then the clock turns,
The time reads 8:15 a.m.
Marty should be gliding onto the ice,
Arms outstretched,
Ready for a warm embrace.
I begin to realize,
He will never glide onto the ice again.
There will be no more skating lessons,
No more life lessons,
No more laughing and joking.
He is really gone.
I begin to cry,
Then the clock turns to 8:16 a.m.
I leave the boards,
I begin to skate again,
Pretending everything is fine,
Pretending that nothing has changed,
But the truth is,
Everything has changed,
And nothing will ever be the same.
8:14 a.m. is no longer just a time the clock reads.
8:14 a.m. is happiness,
8:14 a.m. is laughter,
8:14 a.m. is anger,
8:14 a.m. is sadness,
But most of all,
8:14 a.m. is memories.



Dedicated to: Marty Martino (1937-2009)





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