She did not have much longer to live,
I was told by the nurse.
In the blue quiet room, I sat by her bed
and took a good look at her,
whom I had just met.
She was working hard,
my breath no match for the rattle
inside her throat.
I placed my hand on her sinewy wrist
and left it there.
I looked around for some clues.
The date on her hospital bracelet
that belied her youthful face.
A picture of her, smiling,
and standing with loved ones.
And most useful,
a card from a friend, with godly words.
Prayers long forgotten,
I had to make up my own words
to let her know that God was with her.