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The Dying Hobo
August 13, 2014
I was walking down the railroad tracks, one cold December day.
When laying by a box car a dying hobo lay.
His friend sat there quietly with tears in his eyes.
Telling short stories and saying his goodbyes.
His dying friend whispered I am going to a place. So clean and so perfect not a trace of human waste.
he kept on talking and telling us not to cry and even if he was dead, his soul would never die.
© Matt D., St Peters, MO
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