Her mother walks lost
Down memory lanes,
Across barren fields
Where her friends once stood,

Now all gone like words
In a dying speech;
Her conversation
Takes on the unreal,

Speaks to those long dead,
Their ghostly shadows
Hanging over her
Daily thoughts; her words,

Angry, sharp like barbed
Wire; her blind eyes,
Seeing only the
Ash grey yesteryears;

Casting around with
Bony fingers to
Push out the dark fears.