Walking through the willow grove of old, left in the shadow of rubble.

Remnant whispers of memories float around her like the breeze that lift the willows.

A laugh, a sigh, the futile battle cries echo one last time.

Seeking the old sanctuary of the icy pool, her stone bench.  Ah, there it is.

Like a ghost of ancient lore reliving history once more....

Taking a seat, smoothing the gown, watching the reflections of history drift by

leaves strewn about the surface reminding her it all has faded.


Glancing about the rubble, lifting her face to the gentle mist, savoring it once more.

The soft sigh of time heard only by a few, brings her back and urges her.

Peering into the pool, she smiles and realizes everything fades with time.

Even she.



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