Fingers
bent, misshapen, sore
She
drinks her tea, stares at the floor
Thoughts
wandering, she brings to mind
of
happy days she left behind
Of
friends and family who have past
All
the memories she’s amassed
Days
go by without a soul
She
knows how old age takes its toll
A
long, sad sigh escapes her lips
How
she yearns for new friendships
For
copper kettles and conversations would she give
the
last few days she’s got to live
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