She noticed it after the steam inhalation session. The small speck of blood in her left nostril. Philosophy is no good when faced with blood. Instinctively she realised what it was. The cancer is angry, restless. It is eating away my nose. A prelude to the pain and deformity that is my destiny.
The tree was fine when I saw it last time. I don't quite recollect how long ago that was. I do recollect the tree was fine. Now I see it again. All shrivelled up, The glorious leaves gone, So too the pride. It looks old, Maybe feels old, wasted, useless What happened to you, old friend? What bolt of destiny struck you down. I doubt you will ever hold that head up again Against the sky, against the wind, against time. But don't you worry. We are with you. Shrunk, shrivelled, shaken down No matter. We are with you.
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