“It’s too windy to read,” she say’s,
as the pages of her book flutter by
before she can stop them.

He, staring across the courtyard,
and she,remembering how romantic he
was in his plaid sport coat and
fresh picked daisies from her own
mothers garden, the first time he
came courting.

“Do you remember….” she starts
to say, but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t remember much these days.
Mostly, he just eats and sleeps and rages
once in awhile because he can’t remember why
they live in this God forsaken place
where he doesn’t know anyone.

“Where are my friends?” he asks, “You know,
my friends, like….” but he can’t remember their names.

She reaches over to take his hand and
he jumps a little in surprise.
She looks down at her lap and a tear
forms at the corner of her eye, falls to her
dress and spreads a little.
And she realizes that she’s wearing the dress
with the daisy print.

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