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Return of the Bird: Grandpa Dairies
The doctor told us,
“He doesn’t have long left to live”.
He could say that again,
I already know,
So his voice to me is nothing but howling winds.
Blowing angrily,
Trying to devour my hopeful,
‘Maybe-pointlessly-so’ grin.
But really these are times we thought we’d grieve.
Sitting at the foot of his bed,
Just staring like this feeling isn’t really grim.
Everyone’s smiling,
But we came here thinking he’s probably dead,
Everyone’s lying,
Saying we always believed in him.
These tears were hiding,
Couldn’t believe it when we saw,
Just him in the hospital bed,
With a smile.
A pointless,
Hopeful,
Grin.
Copyright ©
R.P. Grcic
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