kicking the red ball

the old woman
struggles to keep the air in
as she lies in her
hospital gown
on the hospital bed
in the white room
of the tall building.
pills
and tubes, a machine beside
her keeping
her heart going.
the family stands beside her
taking turns to take
her hand.
she's grey. she's pale,
she's hanging on by a thread.
she remembers nothing,
she remembers everything. how
quickly it went from
a child
in a school yard kicking
a red ball
to this, at ninety, about to
slip into the great
unknown, the kind abys.
but they'll do their
ungodly best to keep
her alive, stringing her
long life along,
thinking strangely, that for
everyone, this is
for the best.