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Shrinking

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She lay like an Ancient Fetus
In a place where Death is more
Than a dinner guest
Who always cancels last minute;
Where Beds can grow cold through the Night.

Amid memory and madness, 
Frailty and tumult,
The Universe whirls around her,
Small, delicate, stature lost,
In a great big Hospital Bed.

The End
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Author guidance for This poem

Juliia I love you, GG! Feel better soon!
updated Jan 1 '01 by Juliia

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Juliia You're currently reading the poem Shrinking, which was posted on Feb 18, 2011 by Juliia.

This is a solo poem.

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