Tears On Paper

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Ceaseless white seen through glassy eyes;

Callous cold on either side of the glassy eyes.

Memoirs roll down the cheeks;

Caustic trail to the heart, down the wilting cheeks.

Mind reconnoitring the attic of times lost;

To find the lady with crumpled eyes, kind and just as lost.

She whose tales swallowed the soul of a juvenile me;

Whose tickled wink buttressed the frisky me.

I know her smile after a hopeful wait sitting by the patio;

Yet all I see now is a lone chair in the mourning patio.

Even the vile winter sees me abject;

Holed up in the attic with all that's left of my Grandmother.

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