With her young embrace
she transformed his stiff, porcelain disposition
into a warm coffee nature.
We watched her through the tall library windows
as she pushed him in his creaky wheel chair
and told him childish stories.
It was the first time he’d laughed in years.
The hands of death that always had
such a firm grip on him were no longer present.
She had him walking with a cane
and writing long stories in his notebook
when we all thought he was absentminded.
None of us knew there was a family
that belonged to the tall white-haired man
who had lived here for so many tiresome years.