My sister has no children; nor have I.
So where did these twin blonde-haired boys come from
That in my dream did greet me with a cry
And hug my legs until those limbs went numb?
Concerned they were with some fam'ly disease
Of which I'd never heard, and can't name now.
"Oh Auntie Kate," they cried, "Oh, tell us please,
Is this thing going to kill us? When, and how?"
I held them close but simply couldn't tell
What had them so disturbed. The anguish stays.
I still can feel their skinny forms so well
And feel their tears on my face. In such ways
A tired mind pulls something from the soul
Into the waking world. I've no control
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