The Sunday Whirl Wordle #688
This old splinter sits in the shadows
reminiscing with the ghosts
of her fading memories
Honey colored eyes gaze into a mirror
with a golden edge and cracked by time
where it leans against a large granite stone
Reflected within the shards of hazy glass
is a bright red rose bud
held between the sharp beak of a crow
Reaching for the wavering image her hand
gnarled and claw like the bird slips away
steaming into oblivion
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 
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