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Image for the poem What We Lose

What We Lose

Her skin
was once
smooth and young,
giving pleasure to
many who shared her journey.

Her daughter would have been
twelve years older than me today.

Why must what's most
precious to our lives
die so soon?

Why can’t
what is beautiful
last forever?
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published
Author's Note
I sometimes exchange stories with an older neighbor. She was a wild woman in her younger years.
The photo is her with her daughter a short time before her daughter's death. March 3 would have been her 36th birthday. I wrote this because of her haunting questions.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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