grip the mealy earth, turned and beaten.
The skin turns opaque, cold and brittle,
trembles as the body moves, noncommittal.
Her eyes dance wildly, a search undaunted,
as fountains of youth loom, leaving her taunted.
Dig into the bitter ground, a hapless pillow,
and save thyself from an endless 'morrow.
There, ahead, grace from effort beckons
as does life's final, splendid lesson.
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