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On Being Born (Free verse) by emilyowey

James, my baby, died one day And love did leave me lonely. He breathed one day and died the same. I could not see the change. He did not smile, as I once did, On living one more hour. Yet looked content in what he had, And yes, he probably was.

horus8 4-Sep-04/10:29 PM
This is quite possibly the saddest, and most precise poem I've ever read. I am so sorry.




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