hospice

her skin,
lineless despite so
many years of worry,
not a furrow,
not a grimace or squint
on her face
framed by white
hair,
the hard work of life
done.
she's at peace in some
strange way.
alive inside,
unmoved by legs.
wordless.
this is how she'll die.
alone
in a stranger's bed,
in an unknown home,
away
from all those she
loved, and loved her
in return.