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Jul 2013
I picked the suit,
The darkest I could find,
Black jacket and trousers
An even darker tie.

She's not even dead yet but
My wardrobe is prepared.
As the pain gives
Your morphine drips,
Your lips move
Chapped and impaired.

Do I dare to see you like this?
I long to kiss your forehead,
Tell you not to be afraid,
As my own terror rises,
Escapes onto display.

I'm drawn back to times gone by,
Sat on ancient couches
Just a child who cried.
Warm lemonade was the remedy
I believe,
With just a single dollop of ice cream.
I would almost scream in delight
My ailments abandoned,
Vanished by the magician
Only a grandmother can imagine.

But of course it saddens,
So many rose tinted memories
Blurred and yet pristine,
All rolled into the hazy image
We retain within our dreams.
Please don't cry
As I grasp you tight
And the drugs and spotlights
Pull you deep into the night.

I'll hum a tune,
Something soothing
I presume?
See it as rest and not into the gloom,
I know by your god you think
You'll see me soon,
And for once dear grandmother
I wish with all my heart
That it be true.
Rob Rutledge
Written by
Rob Rutledge
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