thoughts run rampant
in the darkness of her soul
they splatter on blank pages
words that fill a hole
in the dead of night
when she’s rendered blind
images unfurl
on the screen that is her mind
a snow covered road
on a cold winter night
fish in the shallows
shining summer bright
an aimless drive
down Fairmount Boulevard
planting rows of impatiens
in her well-loved backyard
mistakes, missed chances
remorse that burns
the good old days for which
she frequently yearns
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