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Her Secret Dream In Memory ofEthel Newton Sims 50 years gone and me alone You'd think he'd stay gone Awake I can't remember his face Asleep I can even smell his skin. You'd think he'd stay gone I can hear his voice clear as rain Asleep I can even smell his skin Feel his bursting heart against my cheek. I can hear his voice clear as rain. You'd think I'd dream his kiss, his bare skin Feel his bursting heart against my cheek But my mind takes pity on my soul. You'd think I'd dream his kiss, his bare skin Alone in my bed 50 years, 50 years But my mind takes pity on my soul In the mirror I see the made bed behind me. Alone in my bed 50 years, 50 years True to my vow to keep my long hair In the mirror I see the made bed behind me. My dreams are silent and white. True to my vow to keep my long hair The big brush is his hand, the pillow his chest. My dreams are silent and white. I rise from the down feathers and quilt in tears. The big brush is his hand, the pillow his chest. I'm not weak and sickly, not wearing him out I rise from the down feathers and quilt in tears, Him there smiling at grandkids. 58 I'm not weakly and sick, not wearing him out We work and sit wordless side by side Him there smiling at grandkids His fingers inches from mine. We work and sit wordless side by side Awake I can't remember his face. His memory an ache I keep in my apron pocket 50 years gone and me alone. —Rita Sims Quillen 59 ...

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