The old lady talks into air,
Of friends and family.
She asks poignant questions,
Or so it seems.
Her wrinkled brow furrowed
And eyebrows raised,
Tell just as much of her age as her intent.
Her words wander with lost syntax.
They ring with waves of sound,
Trying to find an ear to fill.
Still she sits.
Wondering why everyone stares,
But no one listens.