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I sit beside him
He's sleeping.
It won't last long.
The pain in his head
will see to that.
I haven't cried
in front of him.
I wish he could say
the same.
I wish he was sixty,
again, and I was six.
Instead, I'll be meeting
with hospice later
this afternoon.
Written: Late-November 2006, at my Grandfather's bedside.