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He never regained consciousness In all the hours I sat there. The only sounds were the monitors’ beeping And his staccato gasps for air. Each breathe more labored than the last as feeble hope turned to despair. His extremities felt so cold, as I sat and murmured wordless prayer. A good life, certainly, and full; Honor and glory both were there As that old soldier slipped away and his last breath rejoined the air.
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Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
Breath and Air
He never regained consciousness In all the hours I sat there. The only sounds were the monitors’ beeping And his staccato gasps for air. Each breathe more labored than the last as feeble hope turned to despair. His extremities felt so cold, as I sat and murmured wordless prayer. A good life, certainly, and full; Honor and glory both were there As that old soldier slipped away and his last breath rejoined the air.
john-f-mccullagh
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63/M/American
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
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