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Growing Old

We grew old

The children are gone
The nest is empty
There's one less chair at the table
There's one less pillow next to my head

She's not here anymore

The house is falling apart.

She's not cleaning up behind me

There's so many things I didn't even know she did
All the little things that kept it all together
All the little things that I can't remember

She's not here to tell me goodnight
She's not here to say she loves me
She's not here to make the bed
She's not here to hold my hand

She's not here
Written by solanaceae
Published
Author's Note
Inspired by the aftermath of my grandmother’s death.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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