She Settled there to be with Her Mother's Eternal Place

The old friend waits for me outside of the door
to her apartment, at the end of the long, dingy hall.
In recognition of her morphed figure, I smile.
"Come on in," she says.
Her beaming face lightenes up the place; yet,
her room, conforming to the rest of the place; dim;
is gray every senior's favorite color?
Gray hair; gray emotion.
Red mood is a taboo; a villain, the cause
of insomnia and heart failure.

I'm doing better than the shape I am in," she quips. 
I nod to be nice; stealing a glance of her pot belly and
missshaped eye lids;
for which she blames the recent Parkinson's.

I humor the subject: "Do you live here all alone?"
"Uh-huh." We both laugh. 
"I like a poodle," she says. "But I can't take care of it."
We continue on chattering; me, informing of 
my writing life; her, about the neighbor and 
the weekly card game, etc.

"My son is supposed to pick me up," she says.
"I am going to watch the ball game in the city."
"Your son moved to the city and you stay in this little town?"
She nods, matter fact.
I nod; her family's root is in this town and so this 
is their resting place; so will hers to be with her mother.
Something stirrs in my heart; melancholic;
her alonness at the somber place, waiting...until...
she a leaf in the wind?

Ah, just enjoy; this is the part of our life; like that. 

©Byung A. Fallgren