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Scott Salter
Poems
Jan 2013
Old
Feared friend of mine, why do you knock upon my door
Is it not enough that years escape me, memories are weak?
Shadows under my eyes caress my cheeks with darkness
Lines appear to form maps of my life, creases of time
Grey is my new colour, thin becomes my skeletal frame
Arched over is my posture, slow long shuffles are my steps
Feared friend of mine, why do you knock upon my door
Written by
Scott Salter
UK England
(UK England)
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