The Epilogue
From a zygote spark grown
such a life she has known,
full of prayer and hope.
My, how bravely she did cope.
Now, she sits and stares
entranced by the hairs
on the back of her wrinkled hand
as the clock on its stand ... ticks.
Often, as if in a daze,
she'll peer through her haze
awakened to the ticking sound,
and the earth shifts its ground.
Her hair has turned to gray
and time just wends its way
through the story of a life led
that will soon vanish from her head.
All those kisses, all the wishes,
all the laundry, all the dishes
all the memories ...
pass like a breeze.
Yes, she came to this earth
to laugh, to love, to give birth
but before she gets away ...
was there a point to this play?
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