Winnie’s Patience

Now at eighty-five and lying in her bed

Winnie Lewis glowed with angel fire

She had learned long ago of the gift in the wait

Knowing that her world always moved forward

At the most exquisite soft pace

So while the others lay

Stiff with their grief

Pretending their day was standing still

Winnie Lewis smiled a great smile

As a crow came and landed on her sill.

3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Folio and Ink
    Apr 16, 2013 @ 04:33:17

    Hope to read more poems about Winnie. I like the continuity, not only because they are about Winnie, but they just stir and feel like a collected progression.


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