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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1277862
They call this the living death - where was she before she slipped away?
So Long Lost

When we said goodbye
You hardly knew me.
Through rheumy, weary eyes
You peered from isolation.
Old woman, from your easy chair,
The world was hardly even there.
Your knees bent upwards,
Nearly touched your drooping chin;
Hands smoothed over and over,
Pulling at your skirt.
What images replayed behind
Confusion-made, this filmy blind?
I brushed your hair and washed your face
But you withdrew and only saw
The past beyond, your life before
The babies came, and love, and grief;
Daily widowed or bereaved.
And I, the harbinger every day
To see your pain, your soul retreat
A little more, detached from me.
until the circle came complete..
From child to carer, carer me.
© Copyright 2007 fiona cryer (fionanme at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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