LADIES IN WAITING
She sits in a straight backed chair,
slouching like Whistler's Mother.
Head to toe in black, she looks out
of the night window.
I wonder if she's the nurse.
In the ward there are no other children.
I call out, "Can you bring me some water"?
She turns to me and
I can't find her face.
She sits on the edge of my bed.
Her etched face is older
than I will ever be.
Unwinding the ashen strands
of pinned back hair,
she lets it float around her shoulders,
then smiles her white grin
as if she were a doll.
from: TWO GHOSTS/poems
Don't be afraid, smile, it's all an illusion.....