Mina still writes and paints.
When everything is said and done
When the carrot has been eaten off the bone
When the friends have not only forgotten me
But I am no longer even a figment of their imagination
Then you will come in my room as you do
Take my hands and bring me up – standing
Looking into your eyes, the only land left
For both of us, each others eyes
The children, our son and daughter
No longer children. Solid but fragile
We have abandoned them through no fault of our own
Time. Disease. Change.
From the beginning to the end. The mutated middle. Decline with peaks and gullies.
The peaks flattening into hills, eroding. The gullies filling with sand.
You used to call me Woman of the Dunes. How strangely prophetic.
Only you knew me
What a gift, my prince.
Fragments remain. The layout of the house…
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