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You See.
You see the way she looked
when father died.
That lost
in a dark maze gaze;
that emptied
of being stare,
still there
years later
as could be expected
of a devoted wife.
Could see
in her eyes
worlds set ablaze
and burnt out
leaving just gutted ruins
where love had been
and lived and slept.
You see the way she studied
the roofs of houses
from her window
of her lonely room;
grey tiles and skies
with mists and gloom.
You see her now
mind gone
to dementia’s claim;
hardly remembering
a face or place or name;
but still that lost look
that drowning
in a maze of words
in some dark
foreign language book.
poem
by
Terry Collett
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