her time is running short
the lane is merging in
chop-chop breath
like someone jogging

concealed in her gasping breast
is a beating heart of hope
to live forever
see her progeny born and married
and born again

the lick of time
snaps its nasty fingers
then slaps you in the face 

backroads haunt you now
and you recall everything
there’s so much to say
if only you had the breath

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