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She will remember not of our yesterday,
as all thoughts are gone. Gone away.
Escaped from that lovely mind of hers.
Escaped in the words of this new verse.

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The window opens.
Time will pass,
through the space
but not the glass.

Like English Ivy, a spreading vine
around my life's path did entwine.
Growing in all directions, as I see
my path to the future is no guarantee.

The thoughts in my head
do abound,
but aren't factual, trusting, solid
or sound.
Running the gamut of imagination
some profound,
have brought me to a place
without sound.

Shared by Heather Cox Richardson from Letters from an American with this message:

 "There are many things I would like to write about, but they will have to wait. There were too many nights lately that ended up as mornings, and I cannot hold my eyes open.
I will leave you with a photo that Buddy took this week while my day was ending and his starting. I love what I do, but there is no doubt that he has the nicer office.