here she comes

for Sylvia

my peerless lady limps along the ward
past the beds of nine old women some
with hanging mouths their attention semi-fixed
on distant nebulous focal-points

but she has an indomitable flame burns bright
in eyes that pierce my soul as if to say
you are still a child and I know what you need
a woman who can take you as you are

and though even now you do not measure up
I would care for you if life dealt out a blow
as crushing as the weight it laid on me
would nurse you till the darkness swamped your light

URL: www.mourne.org/syl.htm