I see her lying on the bed
Lost in waves of crisp white sheets
Shrunken and shriveled
As old age tightens its grip on her

I can almost see God’s hand
Reaching out for her
She shrugs him off
She’s just not ready yet

She holds my hand against her chest
So tightly that I can feel her pulse
She’s anxious to talk
But the words are gone forever

A tear slides from her eye
In fear, frustration or exhaustion
I’ll never know
She’s getting ready to sleep, forever