to My son before I die

Take me from this bed, your knuckled curtained hands the fear the dread, for I have none of that. Throw away the flowers, for I am not yet dead.

Take me out to lie again on the Earth
if there is any left
and let me paw the Earth like the Animal I am
here I lie, and She is warming to me.

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SwordFlowers (joined almost 15 years ago)

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Creative Commons Attribution 3.0

Prompt

Prompt (write a story including these elements)

hero Physical Therapist
villain Attractive Patient
goal Avoid a lawsuit
Prompt suggested by CharleS.

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