she walks now.
fast
from side to side,
forward.
to a table.
around a chair.
she's a child.
touching everything,
eating
whatever comes into
reach.
her brown eyes
are small
behind her glasses.
her hair,
as white as corn silk,
knotted upon
her head
by her eldest daughter
who calls to her
to come sit.
to be still.
she walks
and walks, going nowhere,
trying so hard
to get
out.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment