She remembers when the smoothed skin men used to go gaga.
And when the youngin's didn't call her a hag.
And she could still make stiff hearts stop
She's the hottest hen this side of the catheter bag.
She's the devil in hospital shoes and her powerchair.
And to her the elders would flock.
And when she flickered her eyes and threw back her hair.
Their pulse would tick another tock.
She still longed for a husband.
A lean and tall and caring man.
Most of them seemed too ‘pretend.’
All the rest just wished to be her bedpan.
As she comes to the conclusion, she gives up.
And knows that her search was her own.
And she cries and screams and throws her hands up.
In realization that everything dies alone.
With this she lay down her head.
And closed her eyes and sighed.
How she wish so fondly to be dead.
And how inside she was no longer alive.
Finally she shuffled along the aisles of white.
As the curtains hung with great care.
She could hear, see, smell the night.
And she knew that she was finally there.