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The Concrete Poet
Poems
Apr 2019
Harsh reality
The table
was set
with one less
place setting.
No more
fresh
corn muffins
were baked.
No applesauce
to be found
on the
table anymore.
And
after dinner
was finished...
No more,
"Bob; would you
like a cup of coffee"...?
No more,
"well
of course Sally;
suuuure"...
could be
heard anymore.
He's gone.
Never to
be seen
or heard
from again
at momma's house for our family get togethers.
Lung cancer
made
sure of that.
Written by
The Concrete Poet
M
(M)
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