She smiled,
I think
The last day
I saw her
Her babbling
voice
Her witty
retorts
Her laughter
at her grandsons
They were
gone
No more to
be heard
And no one
knew how to comb her hair
Or that she
would be aghast to be seen
Without
lipstick, blush, or shadow.
And no one
knew red was her favorite color
Dressing her
in dull pastels
She would
have scorned.
And no one
thought she knew anyone
Anymore
But I think
she smiled
The last
time I saw her
The last
time she saw me
I think she
smiled.
