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SHE WAS EIGHTY SEVEN

She Was Eighty Seven

www.facebook.com/WRRPoetry [She Was Eighty Seven]

Her quavering voice touched me;
Said she was eighty seven
And she stays on her own.
She fought with cancer;
He took a quarter of her lung
But she won the battle!
Now breathing comes tough
Yet, she embraces life everyday!

Her phone was dead,
The only window to the outside world;
She was disabled
She needs support to move around;
Her Christmas and New Year
Are days spent all alone!
For the care taker is her only friend.
But this mama still enjoys life!

She spoke, like one starved of talking,
And I lent her my pricked ears;
She smiled, wrinkling her wrinkles!
“Call me grandma,” she said. She blessed me,
Tears welled in my eyes and I wondered;
When my bones fail from age, would my children
Leave me in such a house,
To live out my remaining days alone?!

Written by: Santosh Kumar
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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