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Wednesday, April 2, 2014


I had hopes my Cancer Tour was over,
meandering from a friend’s prostate to another’s brain,
followed by one’s lungs and the other’s pancreas,
finally one with no name, no organ to blame.
Mostly friends of many years, spanning decades,
my age and younger, all gone now, as memory fades.
I always knew that one of us would die first,
but, pushing on, thought it would be me.
I always knew the journey would end,
for one of us, but not two and three,
not four, then five,
me the last one alive.  
I had hopes my Cancer Tour was over,
but I was wrong.
It simply went international.

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