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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1799026
The excruciating time before we have to say goodbye.
         People speak softly when they are sad.
         My mother-in-law is dying.
         Our house is a very quiet place.
         It is a place where we walk lightly.
         A place where we exchange sad sighs
         and we cry alone.
         Our tears are premature,
         but they feel real and immediate.
         They feel like they are long overdue.
         
         This is a quiet home.
         We sit around the table,
         We play games with cards.
         Sometimes we laugh
         but it is quiet laughter.

         A clawing pain hangs in the air.
         It lessens every deep breath.
         It dulls the light from the windows.
         It stifles the laughter of the grandchildren,
         and amplifies the beating of a tired heart.

         Our house is a very quiet place.
         The air is heavy, close,
         and the people are sad.
         It is a place where people speak softly.
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