Beyond Words

She's lost in a world 

of her own; can't see

nor speak English.

Her brain almost gone,

she laughs to herself,

and sings in Chinese.

The rumor is,

she was an opera singer.

I call her name, 

and venture to touch 

her frail hand.

She lets me,

and resumes her singing.

I chime in with Frere Jacques,

Ding, Dang, Dong . . . 

Chinese opera and French rhyme

together, I feel the gentle tap 

of her middle finger on my wrist.

We are rocking.