He'd been to the brink of death,
Then back again,
More times than he cared to face.
So he sat down to write final notes,
To few loved ones who remained,
With pen and paper tear stained.
One letter to a beloved woman,
One to the man he loved so dearly.
And then he placed them,
Where they'd soon be surely found,
Upon the afternoon of his death.
R.L.J.
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