Little Willow-Ode To An Ms Patient
Little Willow dancing free
in fields of flowers like a sea,
Indian Paintbrush, yellow and red,
Bluebonnets wave their cobalt heads.
Graceful as a ballet dancer,
little Willow's found the answer,
long ago her soul escaped
from her body's twisted shape.
Arms and legs drawn up and stiff,
drooling through her slackened lips,
corpse-like in her sterile bed,
sightless eyes roll in her head.
Beside her bed, always there,
her mother knows she's unaware,
thirteen years of endless rue,
with this child she never knew.
Her mother lives an endless Hell,
caring for an empty shell,
while Willow's in her field of dreams,
her mother swallows silent screams.
©Danielle White
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