Addy sits by the window
Stares at her food
It’s partially covered
In aluminum foil
She picks
Without motion
Tastes not
A bite
It's curdled and bland
Like the weather outside.
The taut dewy pink
Of a once rosy blush
Is withered and wane
With a waxed fellow flush
She is crippled with pain
From her arthritic joints
So its hard
To get out
From her small
Unkempt house.
She sits by the window
And life passes by
The seasons go quickly
The holidays fly
And cards come
From schools
Penned by kids
She don't know
She don't want to be rude
But they don't help at all.
She thinks of her son
Who lives overseas
He’s too busy
To visit
But he’ll call
When he’s free
And his voice - like a square
Off a chocolate blade
He lets her down sweet
But it cuts just the same.
There's a plum in her throat
So it’s hard to get sleep
So she rubs her
Prayer beads
And tries to
Find peace.
But Jesus can't hear her
*Or else he’d be bleeding
From all of the hurt that this life
Has her feeling.