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Graveyard

Passing God's acre; graves and flowers and inscriptions
"Loving fathers" and "selfless martyrs", a mile of scruples

Wrinkled as sand, she's making the gestures we learned as children
Shapes with her hand, traced through the air

Sharing a glance, she eyes me dumbly!
Does she envy my youth? I envy it too

She leaves in a hurry, as if to attend forgotten things

As if time had just now become short
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Saturday, January 13, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: dark,death,dying,elderly,nature,sad,sadness,solitude
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