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Friday, 8 December 2017

Lost

She wanders
round and round her tiny house
touching pictures,
bits of china,
figurines,
a cow bell,
her fathers watch,
her mothers locket,
a piece of her grandmothers crochet.
Photo albums lie open.
The cedar chest is in disarray.
She looks out of windows,
peers into mirrors,
paces,
sighs,
eventually comes to rest
in her great grandmothers rocking chair
holding an old, tattered teddy bear.
"Momma, what is grandma doing?"
"Searching"
"What is she searching for?"
"Herself darling.
Herself."

11 comments:

  1. Ahhh . . . lovely. And a little heartbreaking.

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  2. But is she searching? Or remembering?

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  3. This reminds me so much of this vision that I have that I'm going to end up living in my parents' house after they pass, surrounded by everything they owned, and my grandmother owned, and not knowing what to do with all of it, and waiting to die myself, alone.

    It's a likely future, actually, and I think it will be heartbreaking.

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    Replies
    1. Now you see, to me, that sounds lovely. Surrounded by mementoes of the lives of those I've loved. I wouldn't feel alone at all. However, if this sounds like a horrible way to go to you...then you should be taking steps to avoid that end. Sell the house and move into a seniors community when the time is right...make some friends.....join some activities. There is no need to accept what you 'think' may be your future.

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  4. Lovely, Delores...as all your poems are. :)

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  6. A very touching piece and also the single fate that I wish never to meet. My goal is to never let myself simply fade away like that...

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  7. Sad and sweet, and as always, a remarkable and memorable poem. <3

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  8. Wow. This one is sadly heartbreaking.

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It's lovely to know someone else is out there. Please leave me a comment...pretty please.