She lies quiet and content curled
in Angels' wings as if a bird cradled in its own private nest.
Her limp long body longs to rest.
Her long grey hair matted and swirled.
She has spent life's test.
Lying there with her body all twisted.
Her telephone now unlisted,
She no longer lives at home.
Her limbs can no longer roam.
She lies there as a snail unable to move.
Her life is now, nearly over,
She's spent better days in sweet white clover.
Now, she's securely locked in a room.
She no longer has her tall handsome groom.
Beautiful pictures fill her wall.
Like autumn's crisp amber red leaves, getting ready to fall.
I ask, myself, what will, I say.
I think she's had better days.
She quickly paves my way.
She slowly squirms struggling to move,
Then quickly opens her weak eyes, and softly speaks.
"Live your life that you will one day have pictures of decorated memories to fill your walls."
She smiles with discolored cheeks.
I stand there amazed.
She while dying is teaching me about life, and how to live…
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