Spindly legs hold her upright

Flamingo style.

So much weight to bear upon

Those fragile limbs.

She steps painfully,

Her joints are wooden

And creak as a fence

In a rough wind.

She clings to her walker

With rigid arms,

Taking each stride

With no precision

But a general idea

Of moving forward.

She stops and breathes,

A small gust of an exhale,

Before she commences

The next stiff iteration

Of movement.

She reaches her chair

With a sense of victory.

Folding over the seat

She unleashes a sigh.

This will steady her

For her next moments of life.


© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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