Beatrice Mills Small

The Fading Light

o go from light to darkness,
From sharp to stagnant brain.
From a future of promise,
To each day, same old same.

I speak about many more humans,
Who have fallen in their plight,
Who gradually lose their person,
And finally fade from sight.

I've watched this sad thing happen.
It took many, many a year.
Like a misty gray fingered cobweb,
It took the one I held dear.


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