Heaven’s Gates

The old man holds up an old black and white photo.  The tears run down his grief stricken face.  He softly says while staring at the picture, “I enjoy sleep the most. That’s when I get to see your lovely face.  Until we meet once again my dear, I’ll be dreaming of you.”  He turns off the lamp.  Pulls the covers up to his chin and closes his eyes.  When morning comes, he does not wake.  For he is now at heaven’s gates.

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