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She enters the room
Glass of water in hand
“Would you like breakfast?”
“Yes, that would be grand.”
Automaton walk
Face grim as a rock
But her sausage and eggs
Are nothing to mock
She looks so familiar
I hold back a scream
She was the widow
I saw in my dream
She asks who I am
She asks where I’ve been
I tell her I wouldn’t
Know where to begin
A Life in Poems 