September 11

Burden of the Child

They died each other’s best and only friend. Fading echos of parting goodbyes softly caressing their ears as they made their final descent. They died in each other’s eyes, hands clasped. The low whistle of rising steam, off in the distance a departing train. Bluebirds flying in pairs no longer frightened, no longer threatened. A single step to the velvet abyss, waves smooth, sixty-four years behind them. On the porch a boy in a woolen cap tugs at her…

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