Off to the left, a trick
I thought, of defective eyes,
I saw a hovering cloud, gray
Round about but black within.
I searched for a glowing
Coal but it faded in
A slight breeze took flight.
A reflection perhaps it seemed
When I wondered what it meant.
So many things mean from
One day to the next
Then begin to fade.
She did that when part
Of her ceased to function.
Her vivacity left her
At once, leaving just
The cloud, the frailty
Of her gray tendrils
Seemed at first to reach out
But finding nothing suitable
To grasp, fell apart.
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