SHE IS AT REST

What was the life she led?

Much like mine or someone of high stature?

I cupped her ice cold hand to rest in the warmth of mine
Her fingers limp, hang over my hand
Such as a wilted, unwatered, house plants do

She is jaundice and monotone

Wiping a cloth across her forehead
Down to close her eyes

Though not my flesh and blood
I have deep respects

Each wrinkle made roads on her face
Deep as canyons
Some parts smoothed by beauty creams

Her spirit seems to be asleep
She might wake tomorrow with a glistening smile
Cheeks of peach glow
Eyes blue as a Caribbean dip

How many facets in life did she live?

Traveled to her heart's desire?
Saw places I will never see?

Laughing, living life as it was intended to be
Her life's path here on earth erased
To start one in another place

Did she have deep thoughts and ambition?

Perhaps she could have cared less
Living life as it came to her

Picked her head up
A very heavy paperweight
Drool spilled out of the corner of her mouth
Wiped it with a warm folded cloth

Combing spools of shiny white silk
Lying it to one side of her face

All that is left
Sack of bones
Saggy flesh

In hopes, she is in the midst of heaven somewhere

A soul of
grace
dignity
pretty
of life...continuing on...