The Forgotten

She sits by her window dozing off and on. Drool escapes from her mouth she wipes when she's aware. The birds they no longer sing or she no longer hears. Her once busy hands now lay frozen in her lap. She recalls the love of family and friends whom no longer call. This room which is now her home feels more like a prison cell. Three meals a day, meds and bath are only breaks in endless days. At night when she's put to bed she closes her eyes and prays. Dear Lord, I'm tired and weak. If it's your will please bring me home. You know best. Amen.