The Twilight Years

“In her twilight years,” as she calls them,
My second mother languishes.
Her dry skin hurts
And crumples like paper at
The slightest scratch
From a friendly puppy.

“Old age,” she says
is not for sissies. A
scant 100 lbs, she faces
death bravely and waits. 
What else can she do?


A Breughel Winter Snow Scene


For My Sister

To My Westie: Neva

The Twilight Years

Snow White’s Poisoned Apple