Surely, you would have liked the woman.
In all likelihood, so too would I. But if you
hadn't met her before now, that opportunity
is forever lost to you for the woman who lived
such a long and ripe life is now gone. No, I
don't know her personally. I don't even know
of her other than what I read in the purple
prose extolling her life in the paper's obituary.
Not that I make a habit of reading these ever so
mournful and tender remnants of a life recalled.
It's the photographs, placed side by side above
the account of the meaningful details of life well
lived that caught my eye as I turned the pages
while reading all the news fit to be printed. On
the left, that of a very young woman, trim and
pretty twirling in a ballet costume, the moment
caught in time. But time wore on and she became
as will we all, white-haired, wrinkled and broad
but that devilish smile that the young woman
flashed at the camera remained distinctly in place
transferred from youth to age, informing the
viewer that here was a soul whom life suited.
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