Sonnet on a Sick Mother

Something in her eyes said she already knew

the dreaded fate that she could not escape.

Those eyes and her skin with their yellow hue

and her clothes and the way they did gape.

She had lost a good few inches in height

as well as most of the hair on her head,

that didn’t stop her from keeping things light

as she lay dwarfed in that hospital bed.

But she was strong in character alone,

her broken body could hold her no more,

the blood in her veins turned cold as stone -

her heart stopped beating, and mine hit the floor.

But now she is at peace, restored and whole

in a new body that matches her soul.