Vigil
by Emily Gibson
Lying still, your mouth gapes open
I wonder if you breathe your last
Your hair a white cloud
Your skin softened from disuse
No washing, digging, planting
Gardens or children
Anymore.
Where do your dreams take you?
At times you wake in your childhood home
Rolling wheat fields
Boundless days of freedom.
Other naps become your teaching days
Grammar and drama, speech and essays.
Yesterday you were a young mother again
Juggling babies and your wistful dreams.
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