A Poem By: Lee A. Zito
The sun shines bright
through the window into the old fashioned room
Fifties wall-paper, fifties furniture.
Close the shade please she whispered.
At the dusk of life
the sun still doesn't bring her joy.
It never had.
As a child there was no playing,
no adoration for the warm rays of sunshine.
She had betrayed the sun
therefore she grew sick.
Disease caressing her with seductive death
Dancing with her, passionately.
She loved the dance with death.
She knew h…
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