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She never went out on New Year's Eve
Never gave any sign of her
commemoration.
On the last day of the year
She would drift about the house
Refusing to dwell in any room.
But I remember her dressed in black
And sitting in the heirloom
chair,
Passed daughter to daughter,
Backs parallel.
I can see her sitting,
Remembering, waiting
In the room by the door, with
candles burning.
Though she never lit one
Nor stayed in any room that night
Nor changed her dress.
She never went out on New Year's Eve
But celebrated the anniversary
Of the chair passing
By doing dishes.
Though I remember her sitting by the
door
Sitting in the heirloom chair
Sitting as I do tonight
Celebrating private
anniversaries.
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