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Circle unbroken
I remember a day somewhere in time,
Before these words were spoken.
When I was still your little one
And our circle was unbroken.
.
Then I came to the foot of your bed
Watching, , helpless, sighing
Shallow breathing, then a gasp
Then silence. Someone crying.
In this grey world I dressed in black
In somber tones of night
I walked like one still in shock
Uncertain of the light.
Sometimes I sat here in your room
Quiet and alone
As if the presence of your things
Could lure your presence home.
Once on a midsummer’s night
As I approached my home
The front door opened welcomely
But I was quite alone.
The night was hot, no breathe of air
No breeze to make it move
What’s more I’m sure I locked that door
But its nothing I can prove
Some explanation might be found
For what occurred that night
And probably my thoughts unsound
But I took comfort from that sight
I remembered a day somewhere in time,
Before these lines were spoken.
For I am still your little one
our circle is unbroken.
poem
by
John F. McCullagh
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