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Poetry and Medicine
February 3, 2010

Sunday Mournings

JAMA. 2010;303(5):396. doi:10.1001/jama.2009.2018

Sunday mornings when I wake
and first light filters
through the blinds
I listen to my heart, my breath.
Today is all my future
all my past.
I mourn your loss, especially
on Sunday mornings,
my king-size bed
ridiculous without my queen.
With small light steps
you walked into my life
and out again,
like morning come and gone.

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