There you are-
Just six inches from me.
You look peaceful.
Aside from,
Of course,
Your snapped neck
And your limp body.
And I wonder if maybe
Someone could have
Saved you.
Or maybe, even, if
I could have saved you?
I watch you, and
I wish that I could
Somehow allow your
Bones to mend
And fresh air to creep
In and out of your
Defeated body.
But I couldn't save you,
And I can't save you-
Because I'm about
Sixty years too late,
And you're merely
A picture in my
Ninth grade history book.

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