He is not bloodied anymore.
He is clean and fragrant as the hills
in the green, green mornings,
of cool blue heavens.
I still remember him bloodied, though.
His vivid, courageous, ruby heart,
when he hearkened to my frantic calls for help,
when I was puss swollen and muddied.
He is no longer bloodied,
but radiant.
Both faces, I should remember.
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