She sits as she holds a paper thin hand
She hears the labored breathing
She tells the others it's near the end
No family to be there
No mournful wails
It's just the nurses and aids to offer care
Slowly the breathing sings the song of death
The grip on her hand becomes less and less
Finally the hand loses all strength
The room becomes quiet
No one dare breathes  
Sound returns of the bustling in the ward
The others leave letting her mourn
She did not get to save a life that day
Instead she helped a soul because she stayed.