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Mercedes Webb-Pullman


Her world of air and water turned to stone;

on life’s great stage she knew she’d missed a cue.

With timid steps she exited, alone.


Her words, like flesh, struck sweetest near the bone

where blood runs hot, and pain rebirths as new

her world. When air and water turned to stone,


tormented by the wrongs she can’t atone,

she faced the truth she’d only tiptoed through

with timid steps. She exited alone


weighed down by failure. Harvests she had sown

became the famine that would soon undo

her world of air and water. Turned to stone,


she froze as time expired, white ashes blown

away like veils, exposing death’s allure.

With timid steps she exited. Alone


she walked her garden one last time. Well known

the path, the gate. One final sad adieu;

her words of air and water turned to stone,

with timid steps she exited alone.


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