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Eighty


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They zoomed, friends from everywhere,

Just to make an eighty-year old wanted.

The eighty-year old no longer felt

Hollowed as a house haunted.

 

Tailoring away for decades

At cut-pieces of sanity and brawl,

Their words of love made my stitching

Worthwhile and whole.

 

What better abode to rest in finally

Than the memories of friends?

The zoom poured manna into my soul,

And for my failings made amends.

 

They may not know but they left the meet

With a basketful of blessings;

I saw them off as angels,

Knights, queens, and kings.

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