Expiration
I held his hand, and glanced at him,
He said his eyes were growing dim,
His breath was shallow, and hardly there,
This moment that we both could share
Was, 'at the last' a moving time
When hopes of life, no longer climb
And all that one could do was pray
That God would speed him on his way.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Added by Poetry Lover
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