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She cannot grasp her shifting landscape, With its muted morning lyrics from both Robin and Cardinal. What has dimmed today’s sunrise? Her steps are shorter, her walk slower, both signs she disregards of her approaching twilight age. She rests on her favorite bench by the garden gate. She finds no handle on the rusted bolt. No entrance for her inspiring plod among her realm of light and sound. Sitting, she gathers courage, new strength to climb over the weathered fence. Undaunted, she reaches her limit. Her muscles feel lacking. Accompanied by her mystic shadow self, her playful muse mirrors what she feels: incapability.
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Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 12:17 PM UTC
Incapability
She cannot grasp her shifting landscape, With its muted morning lyrics from both Robin and Cardinal. What has dimmed today’s sunrise? Her steps are shorter, her walk slower, both signs she disregards of her approaching twilight age. She rests on her favorite bench by the garden gate. She finds no handle on the rusted bolt. No entrance for her inspiring plod among her realm of light and sound. Sitting, she gathers courage, new strength to climb over the weathered fence. Undaunted, she reaches her limit. Her muscles feel lacking. Accompanied by her mystic shadow self, her playful muse mirrors what she feels: incapability.
Aging, capability
william-a-poppen
Written by
89/M/American
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 12:17 PM UTC
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