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Unmoving

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Waiting in a hushed stillness

Not breath nor twitch appear.

Does he feel me watching now?

Can he sense that I am here?

 

Had he just a moment more.

A word yet to hear or speak.

But time is past, flown away.

Gone as salty tears damp streak.

 

His head tilts the smallest bit.

Towards where I stand and gaze.

He seems a sculptors master work.

Yet veiled in lifeless ashen haze.

 

His hair, each counted, in its place.

His skin seems wash of roses and dew.

Thin as fair white parchment now.

And still faint smile shows through.

 

Unmoving shall this moment keep

Locked in my sorrowing soul.

Now with his death all peace has flown.

Leaving within a dreadful empty hole.

Karen Quinn 2000 for Samuel

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