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The whirring lights
Softly highlight angels

As they connect needles
To limp arms and sturdy tubes

He really doesn’t want her to lose
Her ongoing fight with life and death

But each tiny breath
Drifts them farther apart

Every sigh seems to welcome the dark
And the only sounds

Come from the prayers in the air
Drifting around, and around

Them, circling them in
Like some carousel, bearing down

Showing the white sheets
What could have been





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