PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I watch her staring stoic

looking far beyond sightless eyes

lost in her own banter,

softly mumbling words no one

understands....and I smile.



Her feeble fingers silently weave

loose thread from the sweater

she wraps snug about her,

gently reliving Sunday mornings

alone....and I smile.



Sometimes she clutches memories

cased in silver dusty frames

simple shrine for other eyes,

once memorized she knows their

place....and I smile.



I sit with her in daily homage

to share a lonesome tear

or just to let her know,

I know what she can't forget

forever....and I smile.