___________in memory of Samuel E. Thomas
in bleak December,
he loosed his restless soul.
For days before he died,
his frail body
propped on a cane,
he scoured countless stores
and antique shops
for blue glass ornaments.
He hung them
on a noble fir
flocked snow-white,
strung with endless
strands of blue lights,
and slept on a cot
beside the tree.
As death descended
in a flock of blue crows,
his blue eyes glistened
with legions of blue angels
blaring their silent horns.
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