At The Cafe

The elderly woman
at the cafe counter
turned around to take
her coffee and walking stick
to a nearby table,
sat down slowly.
She greeted me,
happy to see me.

I remembered her
so youthful and bright
as we worked
in the same big
sociable office where
she moved easily, energetic,
eyes alert, hair luxuriant,
a vocal worker in
our vocal workplace.

She had returned to our city
to look after her
ailing elderly mother.
Now her energy was drained,
her hair short, thin, dull,
her body stooped,
swollen by drugs
that could not save her.

Soon she would pass away
survived by the elderly mother
she could no longer care for.

Patiently, calmly, she
faced her ending,
unable to fight it
gracious in defeat.

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At The Cafe

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