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Today He’s Good

He wants to be with her

He lost everything when she left

There is such a thing as too much solitude

He sits; it’s easier this way

His old bones creak and grumble with each movement

His thoughts, especially of her, loop over and over again in his fragile mind

He’s sick; a sobering diagnosis

Treatment an option in technical terms only

It’s not an option mentally

He can’t do it; he saw her do it

Box seats to an excruciating ensemble

All for maybe a few more years

Of what?

So we make the most of the time left

Marathon phone conversations that sharply narrow the gap of more than a thousand miles of distance

He’s normal, jovial, talkative

The same old stories; the ones I’ve heard for 30 years

I can tell them myself by now

But he enjoys telling them

They’re classics; at least in our circle

The talks are therapeutic; Relief that he is still him

There will come a day when things will be different

The stories will cease

He won’t be able to tell them

But he’s at peace with that

And I am too

Today he’s good

And so am I

Author: Whipped Owl

Writer Musician Historian Sportsman Loner

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