A Slow Trip from the Car | Roy Pullam
Her bottom lip drags
She throws the left leg
Like a fisherman casting
Pulling the right behind
A labored cadence
She is determined
To take by herself
I walk slowly behind her
Ready to catch any misstep
Or weakness of strength
Hers is a persistence
A yearning for self-reliance
The effort drenching
Her blouse with perspiration
There is within me
A cocktail of concern
A feeling of unease
That someone so vital
Can be made so weak
She struggles to talk
Possibly the damage
To the brain
Has dammed thoughts
Familiar words
That will not come
But in their place
Pour irregular emotions
That startle me at times
I see before me
The weakness of flesh
That dampens will
Both she and I
Are reluctant to accept
This is the way
It must be