May I suggest clicking “Play” on vid below prior to reading, for enhanced reading pleasure…
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Poppa laid his favorite book down, his weary head upon the pillow, (boy said) “Doc’s orders, ya got to do this Pop, ya know he’s the best in Amarillo.”
Orders for what he thought without remorse, it was his life to live, his to not, a simple matter of course.
Family and friends had come to visit, stopping in they’d say “been so long since we saw you last, thought it high time we came by for the day.”
She had never failed to hear him, never failed to stand beside him, marriage sealed in friendship, they saw each other through thick and thin.
Plowshare to his coulter, would be her to see him through, cutting a final furrow in earth’s diminishing field, the last thing to do.
Poppa’s head lay still upon the pillow, book marked, set carefully aside; lying there beside him, she held his hand and cried.