Wise
old woman
waiting alone
in my waiting room.
Dignity dragged down by
molten, swollen spine and time.
Your faded threadbare white
bowed over the shiny new walker.
Little old lady, who would recognize you?
I help you crawl up my examining table.
"Don't get old," you always whisper.
But as I look into your watery eye
my halogen light is bent by
your cataract,
a wall of
mirror.