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The softness of the Rose pedal
Against the withered face
Reflections of youthful times
Silk gowns trimmed in lace.
Spellbound depths of Memories
Flood the tired mind
Dull eyes begin to sparkle
Life emerges by the sign.
Face turning toward the window
 Eyes locked beyond the glass
She is breathing very shallow
Withdrawing from the mass.
Encapsulated in her wisdom
No one interested to share
She has given all who’d listen
And all who’s left to care.
With one last breath she collapses
Into the enveloping bed
God picks her up so gently
To heaven that lies ahead.
Copy written By:  Diane E. Samuel
October 3, 2005

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