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In a crowded room

I asked her to tell me about herself.

Got the first edition off the shelf,

Pages and pages from her Dark Ages.

I had a story to share

But she said she had to use the facilities,

So I was left alone

With her dark nights

And shards of glass.

She never returned.

(I wrote this in 1971 after I got out of the Army. The words are better than a photograph or notes about the emptiness of life at that time.)