The Old Woman Dreams

The Old Woman Dreams


She dreams
with slow breath
rising in her chest
white haired and soft eyed.
She sleeps now in the day sometimes
and talks to spirits in the night.

No need for clocks anymore
she says, as she watches the sun
move across the sky, leaving shadows on the porch.
So many friends have crossed already
and she wonders . . .
what keeps her waking each morn.

Eyes close again as the last rays
leave the sky and for a moment
she is young.
A brief dream passes through her mind
and he is there sitting at the table waiting
with a smile. "Oh, my darling" she whispers,
"it's taking too long."

Sighing she stands, awake now,
opening the screen door into the house
but the table is empty and so is his chair
just little Lucy purring and dreaming too.

A cup of soup, a piece of bread . . . food enough tonight.
Slippers shuffle across the room to the closet and her robe.
Nothing much appeals to her these days once the night comes.
All the engines are slowing down inside
and she is making ready
for her last dream
coming soon to take her
to the other side
and he who waits.

Joanne Cucinello ©2008