Boxing Day

My mother has a terrible laugh.
A laugh so loud,
It almost reaches into the past!
She sits in the same seat,
With the same cup of tea
And simply looks helpless.
A day, long ago from now,
She was probably the most beautiful creature
My father had ever seen,
With eyes that shone
And cheeks that gleamed,
But now, in the present,
She is no more than a ghost
Of a once, graceful woman.

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