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Dec 2019
That door has closed
Everything known, practiced, reveled
A short time ago

Ones trusted, loved
Now just another
Long past innuendo

The new unknown
A chasm sprightly trundled
As a newborn idiot would

Has its bright baubles
But leaves one troubled
What mattered whence when

Which involvement mattered
What remembered remains
I don’t think I’ll see again
James Floss
Written by
James Floss  60/M/Freshwater, CA
(60/M/Freshwater, CA)   
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