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out toward the west
last vestiges of day light
slowly reclined
Pushing the half dozen sodden flakes of corn
Round the bottom of the Willow pattern dish
The woman wondered how she could endure
The continual daily struggle to exist and enjoy.

There was always Evelyn with her warm heart
And Florence curly in the sunlight smiling out
Two little precious gems conjured from a book
Always ready to give whatever they were able.

Love Grandma Mary **
I wonder what monsters
believe are lurking
under their own beds at night

Maybe you or me?
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