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T’was in a dream I heard them say, 'At four o'clock he passed away'.
And I could see the morning sky; it's only eight am, thought I.
My wife stood crying at the door, visions of death to come at four.
Passed her I glanced up to the sun, and knew the hour was yet to come.
Then I awoke in sweat of fear, ‘tick’ ‘tock’ said clock, as four drew near.
My wife came in with breakfast ready, but failed to note my hand unsteady.
Bade I my wife farewell that day, in more than just the usual way.
But somehow this she failed to see, knowing not, that four meant death to me.
Yet somehow through that hectic day, I noticed not, it ticked away.
And even as the clock struck three, forgot that four meant death to me.
by Dae Neumann