Poem: still life

By:  j.lewis

Still life

glory days gone
she says she was blonde and wild
and oh the things she tells
of young indiscretions
pleasures and places
remembered so long after
but the names escape her
along with the little attachments
that bind her to reality

no one listens to her
the titillating tales are stale
after so many repetitions
and like the crush of quasi-centenarians
who are her current world
she just talks
that’s all

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