Affections don't change, though circumstances do
And what you are is roughly similar
Though your housing and comforts may be full of rue,
Your life in retrospect a disaster of lost aspirations, promises
And your reflection bares its nature in its solaces,
The light and its shadows no more than a heartfelt glimmer
Of what was, should have been; your gait
Like your receding hair a sign that what is endless is the wait.
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