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Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #2164815
Old worn stairs leading who knows where.

Step, stop, step, stop.

Treads worn by the pattering feet of youth;
A silver haired lady slowly climbs
In the evening shadows,
Retiring for the night.

Can it be the same feet; youth
And silver haired lady
Skipping through life slowly
Easing toward evening shadows?
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