And peers from her window for the
Thirty-third time in
another lonely day.
And every time it plays
She forgets everything.
She sails on a newspaper boat back
To when the world was sepia -
When she wasn't seventy-eight.
The needle bobs as the vinyl turns
Scratching beneath the layers
As their eyes meet
This summer's day.
And now in every way
She forgets everything.
Rowing to forever on a river.
Just in time to be a little late;
For turning seventy-eight.
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