Sudoku Poem by Joe Oppenheimer

Anna sat and mused.
Daily puzzles used
to ensure her mind's agile,
to certify life's non-fragile.
Numbers go in rows, lines:
ones, fours, fives, nines.

Anna, in her wheelchair slows -
as she sees, as she knows,
rules quickly flee her head
leave her alone, filled with dread.

Now numbers without rhyme
make senseless rows of nine.
Next, she awaits aides,
to wheel them all
to a TV room,
down a hall,
like numbers with no reason,
tossed -
persons in a wintry season
lost.