She doesn't hear them anymore.
Her attention is held captive
by wishful thinking.
Her sparkling blue eyes have turned gray.
Buxom and petite
wearing last years
bargain basement
matching dress and hat
she stubbornly
wait for Godot.
Lost in yesterdays
rotary dial
and rabbit ears
fearful and furious.
He has scolded away
her innocence.
She still works for nickels and dimes
to regain control
convinced
that it really doesn't matter
that she still has to work
that her brothers and sisters
don't write.
Fifty years
ignored away
as fine.
Sometimes she takes things
shiny beads
a ring
briefly
satisfying her hunger
though
more and more
thirsty now
for the fermented white grape
and her arthritic
ankles and fingers
ache from the damp.
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