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81 Winter’s Night I saw Death standing by my bedroom door in the thick of a winter’s night. Silent, he stood there arms at his side. He wore a long gray robe; I felt him gazing at me. I searched to see his face in the hooded shadow. I flung the covers away and sat up to go with him, but he turned and left without me so I laid back down. I wake in the black of night, and, sometimes sorrowfully, realize I am still alive. I keep the bedroom door open. ...

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