ramblings and things

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This is at the border line,
The ante room to death
Where there is a little victory
In every faltering breath.
I sit here nearly crying
Hold her hand and speak
Not certain she can hear
For she is growing so weak.

I kiss her for I must sleep
Ready for the new day
But in that little time
She slips quietly away.
With a half smile on her face
She looks so calm and at peace.
Although it breaks my heart how
Can  I deny her that release.

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