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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 16:03:12 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 147840
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Seventy two years old
[time] => 2009-02-07 13:44:32
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => This is the age my father fell apart, swallowing tongue for the after dinner show, needing us to come around check he was all right, stay the night at times, make sure he took is medicines. This was around the time weekly visits to his doctor began, ambulance rides to the hospital, oxygen tanks stood readied by his bed. This was the age. No one panicking anymore when he convulsed, couldn’t breath. Around the time he show us. How death was gonna take him, and what we had to do to make sure it wasn’t gonna happen on our watch. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 25 [informant] => fanniesson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )
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