Ella
So this is death again;
he comes around too often
of late by far!
Disturbing our positioning,
meddling with the dials,
blotting out our brightest star.
How will we find our way?
hands fumble along a wall,
looking for an exit or a light,
While behind him, shedding life
like a pair of wrinkled stockings,
she stands tall,
Her face, her smile, her eyes,
Ella in her radiance.
Copyright © Elizabeth Mccann | Year Posted 2022
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