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 Sep 2 Nigdaw
Whit Howland
Numbers faded
under caged glass

hands shake
but they move

progress slow
yet steady
 Sep 2 Nigdaw
Whit Howland
Bulbs

in their day
they banded

read

No Vacancy

but not now

today
one lit
the other
burned out

as if to say
some days good

but on balance
mostly bad
When my mother died.
My sense of self slipped away.
The world tasted bland.
Time! Time! Time !
The great eraser of me

Watch ! . . .  as I pace  
this cage of days
that is leeching me

I was the fool . . .
nothing was ever going to
placate me

Just look around !
The walls are bare
There are boxes of pictures
that will never get their chance to stare

Huh !
Time . . . the great eraser
of me


https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=l2cXXdCIClI&si=gmIFFxqNLcJUS1Bk
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