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The Far Corner

Today she wore blue,

an old cardigan,

the buttonholes at odds.

She tried to smile;

creases of pain – the loss

at the corners of her mouth.

Broken promises, too

etched deep.

She looked away.

Then down.

She always sits there.

In blue.

Her smile is not a smile.

It is sadness pulled up.

It is creases and sorrow

in a far corner

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