You see her in a hotel room
You freak out
Your body freezes
Goose bumps rise
You’re filled with dread
But Amanda isn’t there
She’s not conscious
And she cannot interact
She’s just an imprint
A loop that
Plays a moment
Over and over
She died from
A dramatic event
And Amanda
Moved on
March of 1966
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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