The ancient window, looking to the Bay
had been her final stop, she simply had
collapsed into the rosewood rocking chair,
a cry of pain escaped when pelvic bones
...
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An insightful poem and story that is rich with thought, and imagery. Enjoyed being the outsider looking in, and the amount of sympathy in understanding a moment perhaps we all wish we could end with.
I love the language and the mood here, Herbs. I didn't say so before as I always seem to be saying this about your poems and I don't like to sound either repetitive or insincere. Love, Gina.
Agree, mein F, with all the comments.