age with grace

I will call her Grace. She is my mother, her mother, and her mother. I am aging, not yet aged, but soon enough. Her hat is not red, she has no society. She has forgotten she was ever beautiful but maybe if she chose that pink and that green she has not forgotten beauty. Next time I will talk to her. I will call her Grace. I will see her and raise her. There but for grace go I.

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