She folded up her life to see
The boundaries of recovery;
In picture, and in memory,
In seasons lost to harmony —

She folded up her love, to find
That much that she had once maligned
Had fled the chambers she’d assigned
To occupy a space more kind

The creases of decisions made,
The photographs now yellowed, grayed,
Of what she folded, stored, and stacked,
But which are still alive,


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