Believer - Poem by Donal Mahoney
The older he gets
the darker the bedroom
and the brighter the light
streaming under the door
when he wakes up again
in the middle of the night
with pain and thinks about
what's on the other side.
Far better than the gifts piled
under his parents' Christmas tree
when he was a boy laughing down
three flights of stairs to see.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye