They took my father away. They came one evening and took him away on a stretcher. Two policemen in blue uniforms bent over the black, blanketed heap And heaved up the poles And opened the door and left. And I sat there with the mourning company And felt a mindless nothing. And everybody sat there trying to understand something. And there was some talk and some silence and some wringing of the hands. And everybody waited for the time to pass. The time passed, and everyone went home And we closed the door and left, too, While inside the apartment the air was still alive.
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