Memories
They guide her up two wooden stairs;
One on either side
bracing worn feeble arms.
She is there but unaware
of her surroundings-
her destination.
Her strength abates.
They place her on a bench
beside the Library's entrance.
Shaking, she tries to speak
but utters foolishness-
A shouting in the wind.
Their word's soft tone-
half comfort-half pity
like one addresses a wounded bird
beside a leaf covered curb.
She alone knows what's
behind those vacant eyes;
and they can only sadly surmise.
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