A Great Character
The sturdy armchair squatted,
Totally untaxed beneath her frail frame.
Her hands, that had yielded all opacity,
Dangled loosely from cardiganed wrists,
The gauze-like skin revealing a road map of veins,
Still transporting their vintage claret.
Her heart yet harboured reserves of joy,
Which leaked girlishly in titters,
For though Alzheimer's had done it's utmost
To blunt the senses,
Her humour remained sharp and defiant.
So too did her compulsion to rebuke parental slipshodiness.
Now it's angels who fear straying from best practise.
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Comments about this poem (A Great Character by Greg Costello )
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