From across our line,

one last time

for a long time,

I hear his dread

and he hears mine.

He makes a will,

for me to pursue,

and one I swore,

with words so few,

that I would try to do.

O for the control

I wish I had!

O for the arms

that should be here

to wrap around

my selfish, unbound self!

I hear his shaky voice

put reluctant closure 

to the goodbyes,

and then I wait

for time to pass me by.

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