She walks up and down the hall
24 hours a day, if at all possible
(like the restless me that cross perilous seas).
She smiles as she trembles and talks about
distant pasts that in her head abound.
So when nature finally mercilessly strikes,
in her lonely bed, Nancy peacefully lies.
(Perhaps thinking of the walks she's now denied?)
October 30 is the last of Nancy
And she walks no more with me.
I will surely miss her smile and stories
I wonder if she's crossing some unknown seas?