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Heads in the Women's Ward. On pillow after pillow lies. The wild white hair and staring eyes; Jaws stand open; necks are stretched. With every tendon sharply sketched; A bearded mouth talks silently. To someone no one else can see. Sixty years ago they smiled. At lover, husband, first-born child. Smiles are for youth. For old age come. Death's terror and delirium.
Philip Larkin