* * * *
Knocking At Ruth's Door
Tears of happiness appear
as her voice cracks -
"I thought I'd lost you..."
My name hidden in the maze of her mind,
She drinks in the familiar features of my face
and grasps for meaning in my voice.
The world of clocks has become
a tangle of numbers and spaces
in the emptiness of her days.
Each day, a tunnel of confusion
with barely a glimpse of light
in the dimming future.
I sort the recent mail
and water the houseplants
while attempting to ease her worries.
But, for Ruth, at 90,
what is left to fill her moments?
Only her constant worrying
and her prayers for the end of the tunnel.
* * * * *
Shade & Cool Grass On A Hot Afternoon
"It's lucky we live in the country
and not in the city
because we wouldn't have any trees
or grass"
I ponder the words of the child
who voiced this proclomation
on the other side of the fence,
as I continue to weed the backyard flowerbeds
and she plays in her garden -
smaller than my patio,
yet an entire countryside to her.
* * * *
(c) M.L. Nemir