02 July 2008

one hundred human years

Each tiny break

In her chain: a memory,

Etched in bone.


Carried forward,

Even when

She’d rather not.


Try to forget:

She can’t.

Try to remember:


It’s gone somewhere, but

Written upon her beautiful face,

And a little dismay.


Alone in a home,

Disowned by the younger;

Now cared for by strangers.


I watch her stare

Out the dining room window;

Letting the rain into


Her quiet, routine life of

One hundred human years.

Patiently waiting,





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