I met my Great-Great Aunt Lizzie.
She lived alone in Portland,
Not far
However, I had not known of her.
It was hard to imagine
That my aging grandmother
Had an aunt,
Nearly one-hundred,
One who survived the Pandemic of 1918
When many many others did not,
Among them,
My grandmother's sister,
And Aunt Lizzie's love,
The man she was to marry.
A constant reminder of
Tragic young love
Sparkled on her wrinkled finger
Until the day she died.
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