Ruby red wine sits in the crystal glass.
The dusty leather bound book a diary of the past.
The old clock ticks,
striking upon the hour
The candle is no more, extinguished by the draught.
Your life a rich tapestry of multi coloured silk.
Pictures adorn the walls of dreams that you've built.
The old chair creeks,
as if retaining a memory.
A scent hits the nose like the smell of honey laced milk.
Leaving this life as if you felt your wife's pull,
you still kept the remnants of all her knitting wool.
No regrets,
no missed opportunities
You looked at your life with a glass always half full.
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