Thinning strands of snowy hair frame her face,

a helmet of gossamer lace.  Hospital corridors whisper

a past she no longer hears.  Grown children

silent in hallways, remembering different versions

of a life unfolding.  The same old story

repeated, stuck always

in the same place, their faces

like boarded-up buildings.  All she cannot see

standing in the doorway

just beyond her reach.