… So I sat there and held his hand, and sometime right about sunset, he turned his head slightly to me, and his hand slowly let go of mine. I did run out into the hallway, but no one was there… and the white winged dove took flight.
‘Well I hear you, in the morning
And I hear you, at nightfall
But sometimes, to be near you….
Is to be unable…to hear you….’
Goodbye to you both, I said.
There was nothing else left to say.