"I am short" she said, "and there is no accounting for the loss." Her legs are still very long and I see her as a windmill singing in the breeze.
"I am old" she said, "and I walked a long way to get here." Her cheeks are like tissue paper that has been gently pressed so it can be used again and again.
"I cannot hear well" she said, "did you tell me you are here to stay." I said "Yes. I am not going away."
"I cannot see well" she said, "I need the sunlight turned on all the time." In the shadow, her eyes look into the middle distance and memories float in and out of the light.
"My legs are tired" she said, "I do not think I can run into tomorrow." The sun is coming up and the morning is moving this way; her feet are caught in the light.
"My brain is soft" she said, "Prickly thoughts melt against my head and trickle past my ears." The morning paper lays across the bed and wet strands of her hair drip onto the headlines.
"I cannot fix the world" she said. "I cannot even fix myself." She curls froward like a finger and I see a thousand hungry faces marching through her eyes.
"M back is broken" she said, "And I cannot stand up straight like you." I look down upon her head and shoulders and I see that her arms are full of children.
"I've been foolish" she said. " But I could not have been otherwise as the world is to complicated for small animals." I see her as a small bird that has walked most of the way - afraid to fly.
"I am tired" she said. "I think it is time to lay down for a nap so I will take off my shoes." I watch her slide her coat off and lay it aside and I know that she will not untie her shoes.
