Her mind was a pristine gallery,

A catalogue of shiny data,

An unforeseen storm blemished the sheen,

Coating the contents with cloudy dust.


The fog settled on names and places,

Blurring the vision of her mind,

She meandered, lost in its alleys,

Searching for hope’s light in the dark.


The hunt for misplaced things darkened her day,

Conversations puzzled, made her ashamed,

She raged, lamented, the knotty plight,

Cooping up, she withdrew into a shell.


Building up an imaginary sphere,

She receded further from her circles,

Alone, forgotten, in her sunset years,

Trapped eternally in the vacuum. 


Photo credit : Jeremy Bishop (


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Old Wives Tales

Old School