She was a mother to us all, <br />though nothing in her married life <br />had left her room to gather strength <br />for promised storms that surely would <br />descend upon the lucky ones <br />at random by the silly hand of God. <br /> <br />The night his time had come she sat, <br />legs crossed in tailor's pose and stared <br />into a stack of magazines to find <br />a virgin crossword puzzle, still unmarked. <br />She licked, as she had always done <br />the pencil, though it was a useless act <br /> <br />and frowned to find the words to fit <br />into the maze of printed squares. <br />It occupied your time and kept you still <br />while he began to struggle with his God. <br />You knew, of course, that time begets futility <br />and that the die was cast, tonight. At last. <br /> <br />No one expected you to help the dying man, <br />and you were company to him, though unbeknownst. <br />He was the doctor, after all, no longer in command <br />a stranded carp now loudly gasping for some air. <br />So, what's the word that starts with 'd' and means the end? <br /> <br />Well, it was late and she was smarter in the day. <br />The bell would toll in time, it was so much to ask <br />of her, the little woman who had lived, and never mused <br />about the shadow of his mind that ruled the clan <br />and had assigned a fitting pecking order place <br />where ears are welcome and all questions obsolete. <br /> <br />An icy breeze blew in and briefly cut her cheeks, <br />she closed the magazine, the puzzle now complete. <br />Her face a mask, it matched the linen on their bed. <br />It was a whisper now...... 'so, is he really dead? '<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-puzzle-over/
