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A poem I wrote...

The Devil’s in the Dementia

This drift toward derangement is about
The 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 sword
Than subsist, a sad alumnus of the good old days.