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When you are summoned
When you’re summoned a bit too late
In the middle of the night,
And on your way upstairs, someone says:
‘Doctor! I think he is gone:’
You might think, ‘oh well,
There’s nothing to be done’.
When you find him motionless;
His face mottled, his lips blue,
And you’re told he’d been snoring
Just a few moments before,
You start pondering
How often you snore.
When you see the incredulity
Stressfully contorting faces,
As you pronounce their father dead,
And utter your condolences,
You start apprehending
Some resemblances.
And when you hear rhythmless thumping
Upon chests, and wails discordant;
The angry strides of aimless
Wandering of a bereaved spouse,
You can’t help realizing
This could have been your house.
For when they start frantically
Shaking him and pleading in vain,
You will painfully remember
How your folks shook you years before,
Back to consciousness
On the bathroom floor.
Boghos L. Artinian