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My boy stands outside, under a tree,
limbs sprouting long and high,
reaching far and wide, while
Grandma sits inside the home,
the nasal cannula rushing air
to small, scarred, and tired lungs.
The wind lifts him, gets him
jumping, reaching and stretching
for perfectly green leaves,
and her,
reaching, pleading and teething
for creamed corn and pureed peas.
He runs to Dad with his prize,
Then throws it away.
She stares into a nurse's eyes,
Then spits on her tray.
Both are left empty,
Then rest for the day.
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