emerald velvet

silver hair once black as Christmas coal
hunger for learning, for creating
replaced with too many frail specters
her soul is tired
worn through and greyed
melting like roadside snow
her mind
stuffed to the stocking toe
with brave thoughts of death
and fears of dying
God, if she could remember holiday celebrations
twirling on star-dusted dance floors
toasting wishes into white-gold bubbles
floating by northern stars
rickety painted sleighs guided with frolicking white ponies
whose happy hooves were unaware of winter’s brittle bite
I shall drape her long emerald velvet dress
across the lumpy sunken bed
perhaps her dimming eyes
will once more breathe glittering light
lips long ago sharp and full
will sing a small song of renewed hope
in these last twilight days of frosted window panes
Karoleposted this painting several times, I painted this for my mother-in-law
who once sewed a long emerald dress for the holidays