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Jun 2013
He's a ghost  now.
His eyes are dull
his touch is feathery
his voice is the wind.
Every time I spoke
he drifted further
away.
So I learned to be silent
and cherish
the time that was left to be spent
until my wallet
was empty.
Circa 1994
Written by
Circa 1994  Florida
(Florida)   
339
   Savannah Lee, --- and AJ
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