Seagrass wound,
entwined with strands of hair,
a mixture of grays and auburns.
She rose like Venus,
from the waves.
But the half-shell was gone,
nowhere to be seen.
Inside, she briefly felt
that lass of 20.
Outside, her frame and demeanor
reflected the years of life
she had enjoyed,
And sometimes endured.
He laid his hand upon her thigh.
She rejected the touch.
Too many memories borne heavily
in its weight.
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