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Memory MAG
Too young to understand,
Too old not to.
“Pancreatic cancer,” they all said,
but to me,
it sounded like a candy,
“Pancreas”
sounded like a treat.
As I sat on his lap,
Little did I know.
We had driven all the way
from North Carolina to
Humbolt Street,
Norfolk,
Virginia,
so I could see him for
the last time I can remember,
clad in his white and blue checkered
nightgown
with matching nightcap.
I had laughed at his appearance,
Little did I know.
If only I had known.
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