Yellow Fingers

She sat there

Mindless and alone, a full tray of food before her

Her eyes were closed

In sleep or enternal slumber, one never knew

Her hands lay in her lap, her yellow fingers clasped together

Her head was slumped to the side

Resting on her pink, plaid nightgown

Thought it was midday

The sun shown through the doorway behind her

Her bedroom

Spilling into the room from the big window

With no view

But by now, what view had she not seen?

It didn't really matter anymore

A tentative shake, to see if she even breathed

She smelled of sour food and of vanilla

Her head jerked up with a high pitched "oh!"

And a rumbling "what?"

Before her catarached eyes adjusted enough to see

And pretend to recognize

Your face

"Oh, it's you! I can't remember your name, I'm sorry."

Tears sprung to her already red-rimmed eyes

"But it is so good to see you!"

And you knew she would trade her soul just for a sentance or two

Frizzy white curles, untamed and ragged

Letting herself be coaxed into a bite or two of food

Humans weren't built to last

And she had lasted far too long

For her happiness

Telling the nurses stories of the people who came to see her

She called them her realatives -

Her sons and daughters, her grandchildren

But they weren't

And she could never seem to remember their names

Until they left the building

Why didn't they come back?

Maybe her wish was finally granted...

And she finally fell asleep

Clasping her, wrikled, worked

Yellow fingers