This day is heavy
and every breath comes with pain
let go, let go, now
I thought I was just writing about myself, today. But on second reading in response to a 'like' realised that I was narrating the quiet moment last December as I sat beside my mother as she slept her final evening in this mortal world. Tired as she was, trying to hang on and wanting to let go. I guess I wrote for the both of us.
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