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BLUE ROSES (for Artie) by Claudia Lapp

Just before her death,
the old lady told him
she would see these blue roses
on her hospital room ceiling.
They rained petals on her for days,
so after her passing,
the young ukulele player
wrote her a tune he calls
Blue Roses Falling.
What I’d like to know, Artie,
is did you get some kind of benediction
before you pulled away from the tubes and meds
to fly free, like the ecstatic you wanted to be?
Let’s just say that you did.

New Moon

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