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Kenneth Wood

These Tired Eyes

It's dark in here, he said with a grin
Just as well,
I can see far brighter things in the dark

He walked further into the darkness beyond
I was given the gift of sight,
But far better I was given the gift of imagination!

The whites of his eyes
Grew to thin white slivers
And vanished
Then he, too, was gone into the blackness
Though he did speak one last time
Ah! The beauty! Do you see it?

I did not