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be still

One of life's
cruel jokes
brought me
a Christmas gift,
a friend in a
hospital gown.
A portent of
death set You still
in place and
let me cook for You
let me cut Your hair and
let me just hold You when
You cried from the pain.
And now You're mine,
better than before and
I've been lucky
I suppose.
Death's been an
absent player
in my game.

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