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May 2013
When my friend died that night,
In the room next to mine,
Did I hear his death rattle?

Did my subconscious mind,
While I lay sleeping, dreaming
Record some small part of
His short life ending?

Did his soul,
On its way to wherever
It was going, stop by,
Give me a jaunty wave
As it faded out the window?

Or did my soul sleep
Peacefully, all that night,
Unaware of the transformation?
John Hill
Written by
John Hill
684
   rained-on parade
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