Woman

On tacky, lino floor
huddled in a corner;
legs drawn up
to retain a last shred
of dignity ... hair
draped across her brow,
cascades, ever downwards,
the colour of smoke...

wet – from the shower
she didn’t want to take;
terrified of water
as she’s grown,
it drips like tears
from pendulous breasts.

Hands that, so many times,
stroked my fevered cheek
cupped over her eyes ...
scared of what I’d say
if I could see them
and notice how they’d glow
as amber fires – beacons
to light her passage home.