FROM EXILE

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She waits in the shadows
Of a winter evening’s dusk

Eyes grown slowly dim
Everything slowing down
Children wandering
Away and astray

The tight control
On life’s unfolding
Unravelled

In exile

Looking homeward
With a wondering

Would it have been
Better not to have left
At all in the first place?

The question might
Be better left
Unasked in the end
The answer left

Unsaid.

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