She sits in a an oversized cream colored chair. The chairs arms are larger than usual and are now home to her waisting and nearly lifeless arms. Pillows barricade her square in her seat, but her frail body persists to slightly tilt to the left. Her expression is half sad 😞 and half mad 😠 with an occasional adolescent giggle 🤭 that brings a slight ray of hope that the person once known to us will someday return. She attempts to stand but remembers she can’t move her right side. She slowly slumps back into her perfectly molded seat with a look of utter defeat upon her face. Her spirit once again fractured by her very own existence. She sits staring at the walls no longer responding to the words that roll off my tongue leaving me to wonder if she’s now absent or avoiding my concern. For now, I leave her be hoping that tomorrow will be different. Tears roll down my cheeks as I cry inside praying that no one sees or hears my sadness. There are no answers for their queries as my spirit was crushed along side hers. The ride home brings me little solace.
Running Away From It All©
Copyright 2018
By Felina Silver Robinson
The Writings of Felina Silver Robinson 