old together, which would have
been
nice,
sitting beside
each other on a park
bench
reminiscing about
life,
about victories,
defeats.
our hair grey,
our faces lined,
but
he left before me
with no forwarding address,
no number
to call and catch up with.
he just closed his
eyes
with that whimsical
smile of his,
and folded his hands
upon his chest,
then died.
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