at the world through a pane of glass,
hunched in a chair watching time pass.
These days she's nothing to do,
except to sleep, swallow and chew.

Her legs are swollen/knees bow.
She cannot walk/has no place to go.
She flips through a woman's magazine,
or she's staring at the television screen.

She doesn't change into street clothes.
Doesn't wash her hair/paint her nails or toes.
Wears the same wrinkled cotton nightie she slept in.
Has arthritis in her hands and a double chin.

She lost husband; her kids have grown.
This is the only life she's known.
She looks out that window every day.
Folds her hands as if to pray.