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Wrinkle Clad Crone
When I imagined myself a wrinkle clad crone,

My burdens buried fifteen feet deep in the snow,

I'd remember a time of misery and hope,

When I dreamt of a world of ethereal glow,

I wanted it so deeply,

A life transcending the prison of my bones,

I prayed for it ardently,

A life not yet set in stone.


© Aubrin