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Louise By Ken
Shiovitz Lightly her fragile frame greeted angular chair, That surrounded narrow soft arms, Hands silently folded about her hanky, Nestled in remnant of life-nurturing lap. Despite sightless eyes, her face inclined upwards, Slightly cocked in aspect of attention, Upper torso keeping dignified posture, She still asserted a forceful presence. One respected especially her voice, Whispered as ninety-four years surely necessitated, Yet rigorously proper in syntax and inflection, Never failing the former teacher of History. Nor were her instincts for truth diminished, As divined instantly by anyone standing before her, Regardless of education or social stature, thinking How her students must have quaked. Patiently she listened to the poem about harmony, Remained austere or laughed where appropriate, Acknowledged cynical summary of physical truths, And then gently reminded: we cannot live without hope. |
