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He calls out Her voice heard Down the hall from his room Severely disabled, He lies there Waiting We enter his room Looking at him lying there In the quiet children’s home Others create a din But they are in school Now, nothing – stillness I ask if I may touch If he might be alarmed “No, he likes being touched.” I place my hand gently Alongside his face He presses in, steadily, lovingly© 2013 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 