Stroke Victim

August 10, 2011
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For thee I write and make unfading sand
For I am nothing without tender kiss
And warming touch against my frigid hand
Your smile and laughter I so sorely miss

Your grave, with blossoms grown within the yard
A river, cold and salty burns my skin
It killed me, your battle fought too hard
And watching you so deathly pale and thin

But even though you couldn’t say my name
I swear to remember our final day
I just need to move on, past the aching pain
And strength, to forget how I asked you to stay

I stand to leave your grave and hear you yell:
“My girl, I love you, go and give ‘em he**”

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