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May 2012
The sound of a voice shouting out a distinct color,
Comes over the intercom.
Orderlies rushing all about in frenzy.
A screen that should look like an 8.9 earthquake happening,
Now only shows a razors edge thin line.
Compression thrusts must now begin
Once started you cannot stop.
Paddles please now to the chest, crackling static zaps,
Body thrashing about like a fish out of its safety zone
Log the minute, pull the drapes and tag the toe.
It’s a private encore just for me now
******* on her wrist and then on her neck
Still not any kind of clue, one last chance,
I reach again into my bag of effects and grab
Like having a last trick up my sleeve.
A Mirror in my clutch is unseen from her eyes
Placed now upon her lips as I look for something like a morning dew
Nothing so sweet can be found.
Her eighty sixth was the last time for candles that could be blown out.
Wrapping her now I try to keep her warm
Then slowly I help place her in her eternal slumber bed to rest
Now I’m given a key, O’ boy here we go
I know what time it is. I find comfort telling myself I’m just winding up a clock
I blow a breath and a last kiss; my eyes were the last to see.
If know body ever remembers, I will never forget!                            
                                                                                                                                                                            

(CARSr. 4-24 -12)
Curt A Rivard Sr
Written by
Curt A Rivard Sr  Connecticut
(Connecticut)   
689
 
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