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November 3, 2014
To sit around a table
filled her with dread.
She had ancient demons
that hung around in her head.
As a child, she was offered the top
off her Mothers boiled egg:
Such poverty witnessed
when she had to beg.
And if lucky, the crust from
some newly baked bread,
with a smattering of dripping
before going to bed.
The dining table, a place
where bad memory’s lay,
that still lingered on,
until she passed away.
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