I woke up this morning well
And blessed and thought
I will call my brother who lives
In pain without complaint
I have a photo of him around ten
Sitting in a blooming apple tree
The black and white Ontario lake
Sparkling behind him a serious boy
Who would not be comforted by excuses
Before the polio left him stranded
In an iron iceberg we were never
Close in the sense of knowing
One another I left before
He might have needed me
Before I could be someone
Who is wanted as a friend
But now we're old and I
Our whole lives as strangers
Will try again before the end
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