Down the hall
I hear them bawl
'He's no more', whispered all.
Down the hall the stretcher glides
No hurries now, no quickened strides
Afterall, '...he's passed on
To the great beyond...'
In the wake of the internment I see them leave
All in black, stiff with grief
I lay in darkness, deep down below
Watching as everyone turns to go...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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