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Jun 2018
Harry at my elbow waits,
whispers words,
not quite audible

through death's wall,
but tries, and I
in lowly mood

scarce notice
the words from wind,
gazing out at dawn's light,

searching disinterestedly
view's scene of dull of sky
and tree's green,

Harry murmurs
close to ear,
and I unseeing,

think it brain's overspill,
not aware that Harry's
standing there,

birds chorus excitedly,
sun steps out
****** girl shy,

and I gaze out
dark mooded,
see nothing to excite,

nothing beyond
the dull horizon's show,
and still Harry stands

at elbow's touch
and whispers on
through death's cloth,

and I hear not
nor so seems,
thinking perhaps echo

of night's dreams.
Terry Collett
Written by
Terry Collett  72/M/England
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