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She says with some sadness that it

interests her to see who slows to her pace

and who does not

who among her friends accommodates

these changes wrought by age and misfortune

and who does not

who is willing to listen to speak

of loss and acceptance

of grief

and letting go

and who is not.

One wonders what threatens

what beckons

what retreats

what hides

in the feckless heart

what crooked bony finger implies

you too will succumb

you too will fail, will falter, will fall.

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