bide your time and i'll spend mine
with you on the faded blue couch.
your needles in the cross-stitch
weave flowers to pass your days.
nodding in and out
sleepy and forgetful,
you slip slowly away.
the hours that used to be ours
now belong to the buzz and sigh.
turquoise and diamonds fall
from your failing fingers so you
smuggle the gems into my hands.
grey- blue, the memory
behind your paling eyes
sparkles a little still
as you tell me i am pretty.
i'll bake you petits fours and
gently powder your cheeks
to remind you of who you were
and of who i am to you.