The Postmortem

There she stares amongst the chairs

Her sight so narrow, all too shorter than an arrow

Mind is numb, body cold, no longer lingering and no one to hold

This glare amongst her frozen stare remains expressionless like her hair

The birds chirping, the cat purring but nothing remains for her learning

Lying down and looking up her frail hands centered

And with the footsteps tapping and voices mumbling

Up she’s lifted without tumbling

In for collection out with the result

She died of a hernia and a stroke.

© 2011 Roberto Nacci All Rights Reserved