EGGSHELL
Feb 06, 2020
1 minute
Poem by Ash Dean
Illustration by Grace Lanksbury
![f0032-01](https://article-imgs.scribdassets.com/32u4nad2807n2sgt/images/fileCSN0DA7A.jpg)
To me, she was always all wrinkles,As frail as eggshell and embellished with lace.My lasting image is of her beaming faceWhen she opened the doorBut the more I age the less I can ignoreAnother scene projecting in my headOf her sitting still in a hospital bedAnd the first time her smile ever struck meAs forced and stuck.
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