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Francie Lynch Nov 2018
I went to Winchester again,
It's been forty years since then,
When we were awed in the nave,
Stood over Jane Austin's grave,
And loved the irony of golden St. Joan.
The chest coffins hold bleached bones,
The stained glass mosaic filters the sun,
And everything appears the same.
I had perfect recall,
I remembered it all,
Before returning my self-guided tour.
I lowered my head
Through the Refugee door;
To return no more;
For my memorial to you has faded,
As my memories got musty and jaded.
Title is a line from the song, "Winchester Cathedral."

— The End —