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A Widow
The pendulum swinging inside a
clock
Echoed hauntingly as it struck
Through empty voids of a
massive hall
With windows sealed to hide the
morn
A woman sat with golden hair
That curled itself around her
chair
Her eyes were fixed on a
tablecloth
While her heart seared like
flame to moth
Minutes passed and hours fled
Cold air stained her empty bed
Her prince had left and fought
and died
On a foreign shore his corpse
would wither
She clenched her fists and shut
her eyes
And prayed her heart would
survive the winter
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