A poem I wrote...
The Devil’s in the Dementia
This drift toward derangement is aboutThe petals falling in her path,Time’s soft bouquets, decaying dreams,
Where the road was once a strip of solid gold,Her style and conversation flourished.Ideas collided, creating new inspiring scenes.
Decried, cockeyed, it all begins to come unglued,Better now to fall upon her swordThan subsist, a sad alumnus of the good old days.
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