“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?
Caught
A Breughel Winter Snow Scene
Bruises
For My Sister
To My Westie: Neva
The Twilight Years
Kim Bendheim 