expressions of love

Nursing Home
by Lillian Morrison

My mother is all bones
and eyes.
She doesn't notice
her clothes anymore
who had loved beads and bright colors
or glance at the racketing dayroom TV
who had watched her "stories" every day.
"These are my company."
Just people she wants
to greet and joke with,
to cry a little.
She wants them to smile
and to love her.
She asks for her father and mother.
I touch the baby skin,
the meaningful face
and look in the eyes that say
"I'm still fighting
in this narrow place."
and I hug
the fragile bones.