Deathbed (rough)

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Deathbed (rough)

Late nights waiting
By the hospital
bed cold and bright
Warm drip drip
Of the morphine
Putting up a fight
Wandering halls alone
with old friends
Here in the light
Stories shared and known
We cried, raged, and cried
B-ball games so tight

I’m pretty sure I wrote this after reading a chapter of Being Mortal by Atul Gawande. I’m not sure where that last line came from. It doesn’t seem to fit, but I doubt I’ll change it anytime soon and I like the rest of it.