She sat nervous
Cold and emotionally withered
All life drained from her pale face
Hands trembled
A sorry state they made
The crumpled piece of paper
Her death wish as it came
She pulled out a cigarette
Flaky and worn
Yet with disjunction
She lit what was her own
How many days had made this
Breakfast to start and late retreat?
Rocking back and forth
She couldn’t tell apart
The dusk from the dawn
The halo of an arc
How long would this life line run?
How many miles before she succumbs?
The warm smell of fresh bake and
coffee
Home with the sheets and fresh
laundry
The tree tire that hung
Just outside her window
Oh what she would trade
To move from ghosts to the known
She felt like staleness
Ran through her very being
No one pondered
How she became so weary
Her tears bled the wonder of
tomorrow
“Oh wait” she flustered
“What day was it now?”
The disease had come
And wrapped her over
Skin and bones were all that defined
her
All glow was wiped
From the innocence she grew in
As the smoky weed
Made here shallow within
Her thirst ran deep, desperate,
pitiful
Her strength could only afford
A scotch nearby full.
