maybe it's old friends dying
that is making me so blue
I'm going strong if achey
and spring is coming along
but the afternoon light is gray
my mood deeper than now
dependent on my pleasures
weary of cleaning the house
sans illusion of going back
hopeless redeeming errors
missed opportunities gone
perfection a lost ambition
oblivion a nearing horizon
only words save the day
lent to a distant mourning
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