through the white lace curtains

waiting in the softened light

of aging candles, nearly gone,

the wistful watch we kept,

my sister and me,

in this last lingering of love,

in the leaving that all must do,

finishing what life's begun,

when the breaths are slow and numbered,

in the long, long hour,

when good-byes must be said.

a worn out woman, a loving life fully spent,

a mother,

she drifts away in aged loveliness,

she passes,

as the white lace curtains of her bedroom window,

wave to us good-bye.

The End

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