Strand

"I'm getting old before my time,"
She said as she looked at me.
"I'm tired of feeling not quite right,"
"And don't like what I have seen."

"Everyday is like a chore,"
"To get out of bed,"
"To wear a smile or lift my head,"
"And try to seem worthwhile."

The plaster on the kitchen walls,
I cracked and falling down.
The air is cold with pounding rain,
And I don't want to be round.

I wish that every time I asked,
"How are you feeling?"
The question would erase,
And help to start the healing.

I can only be here for you.
I can try to understand.
When you can't stand the pain of this,
I can hold your hand.

Having coffee in the fall,
Seems so far away.
A little piece of a better time,
With snow on Christmas day.

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