by

Robert H. Dirr Jr.

Hollow faces and hoarse cries
Surround the bed and ask
"Why is it you are there and
We are here?" and I have no
Answer to give them. Sometimes
I wish I were with my old friends.

Even so, I have fashioned a private
Avenue where we can get together
And talk of good times. For when I am
At the "Wall" there is no guilt,
And from time to time, I AM
With my old friends.

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