The loneliness of growing old.
The dogwood pedals snowing down
She looks down at her tile blue ground
She longs to feel the breeze outside
Inside these walls they make her hide
Forgotten beauty left alone
Turns her head to a distant moan
There are no laughs to ease the day
Her family saw no other way
Afraid of all the harm she’d face
Her life from her was soon erased
Her hands are swollen mounds of pain
But still she weaves in blissful strain
For this is all she has these days
The time she has is close, she prays
The last pedal floats to the ground
As silence closes all around
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