Spiteful Old Age

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Spiteful Old Age

Written by Basil Hall

A wall of lace
separates the living room
from the world.
The light entering is not returned;
reflection is at an end.
Purpose, the umbilicus,
that unites her soul and thought,
has withered.
She finds little reason to be kind,
there in her eternal womb;
and when love had escaped
hatred slithered in;
filling the emptiness
that spoke too much of death.

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