suddenly eighty-four <br />this woman I have watched for fifty years <br />her back low now <br />since the old man <br />moved in with death <br />and she didn’t <br />alone and not knowing <br />how to be alone. <br />“How do you feel today? ” I ask. <br />She says, “The problems of life.” <br />no more than that <br />each breath a whisper of absence <br />as little by little she drowns in a puddle.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-i-know-i-can-do-nothing-for-her/
