She gets up slowly from the couch
in steps that once were effortless
And crosses the parlor to a bureau
where long rough tangled stems
lean plopped in a glass vase
And raises one between gnarled
fingers and sets it spinning
A yellow cap, in white collar
frills, a yellow cap in white
collar frills
And smiles at her lost beauty
circling in the radiance
of a daughter’s daughter’s eye
Comments
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Bitter sweet and beautiful.
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