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alone MAG
October 29, 2012
Her back bowed under the stress of
Osteoporosis
And too many summers without
Fresh air and new sunlight.
Her eyes yawned but they reflected
A fair boy who caressed
The sores on her bones while sipping
On that chocolate sundae.
The lines on her face split into
The crescent of a smile
As she drizzled his lungs with words
Harvested from old books.
But the glass breathed murky
And she was sixty again,
Shuffling to remember what shade
Of faith his eyes were,
Sitting alone in the red booth.
© Jessica M., Marblehead, MA
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