see the worry on her face.
the clouds,
the deep
lines of regret,
to whom
would everything go to
when
the end came.
who would get these
pictures
on the wall, the curio
filled
with years
of travel.
the Russian teacups
on the shelf,
a vase from Venice,
the jewelry in the box
that played
music, itself an heirloom.
perhaps
marrying young
and having children was not
a bad idea
after all.
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