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Aftermath | A Poem by Guy Farmer

She sits in a comfortable room
Surrounded by trappings of
Carefully contrived gaiety.
A union of convenience
Slowly dissolving in a
Pricey crystal wine glass.
Memories untended;
Reality makes its presence known
In a million small ways.
The inescapable aftermath of an
Impulsive, ill-conceived
Party thrown by teenagers when
Parents are away.
If she closes her eyes for a
Moment she remembers the
One who really matters.

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