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.)
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