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She rises painfully—without complaint—
haloed by silver-white in feathered hair,
and she assists her husband from his chair,
dragging her shadow like a burdened saint.
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This is so good David, I loved the read, and re-read it twice and loved it even more. Very well written. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
This poem touched me in ways you can't imagine. Thanks you.
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8/1/2025 11:53:28 PM # 1.0.0
Thank you both. I truly appreciate it.