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oddments of a life lived
there are fragments lingering
of my past
bits and dregs
the wreckage
the remains of what was once
the ruins
junk
debris
rubbish
of a life lived . . .
all the shattered pieces
the scars
the ashes
the pain
the tears
the grief
and scraps of happiness
hard to grasp and hold
the path has been uphill, and curved
but the past is the past
and today, is today
Copyright ©
Constance La France
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