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Saturday, September 11, 2010

Remembering Lore

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
With the sound of resistance
From her nose, through the tube
Down to her oxygen tank...
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
Aided by a tank that always fell and beeped
The cold tank she'd pick up herself
And lay on her lap with all her might
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When every breath was a struggle,
Lore inhaled and exhaled
She'd quietly play solitaire in the hall
Or squeeze into the tiny gift shop
To try earrings with trembling hands...
Yet she moved on and on
Pulling her wheelchair with labored steps.

When Lore's struggle was finally over
On the fourth of cold and rainy September
She must have toiled for the smile I never saw
And on her face neither pain nor sorrow.
Jamison/09/11/2010

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