He used to come each afternoon –
She doesn’t know his name –
And yet it brought her comfort
To see him, just the same.
But now he hasn’t been there since –
She can’t remember when.
She isn’t sure if she will ever
Hold his hand again.
One day he simply didn’t come.
They thought she’d understood:
No visitors for anyone –
It’s for the Public Good.
And back at home he quietly weeps
And chews his bitter bread,
Then climbs upstairs to stroke the frame
He keeps beside the bed.
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