Lattice

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Dappled drops of life strobe through the lattice fence she built; creating hundreds of snapshots in warn wooden frames. Wafting smoke and smells of smiles through the spaces  made in the wall, portals to be sure I could never forget the collective album snapshots amount to.  Resting on the back porch of remembrance, lounging in my chair of cognitive isolation, sipping pictures from a long stemmed glass, peeking through her fence, I slowly drown in the waves constructed of those dappled drops of life.

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