Glass Bones and Paper Skin

By Janice Barlow

Nursing home upon a hill
Withdrawn and still
Beckoning
Strong scents of pee and must
Of hair and dust
Of fear and rust
Fading distant memories
Of golden leaves
And buzzing bees
The gentle touch of evening’s breeze
How time’s swift chase has stolen these
And turned its youthful song to groans
This shrouded home
My dreams it owns
Of feeble moans and limbs too thin
Glass bones and paper skin

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