Death or Triumph First Draft
Her body was that of a wizened crone,
her enfeebled mind was that of a child.
Playfully, she skipped and jumped rope, and shone,
but only in her confused dreams of wild.
Her drear some days softened by her tone,
she mumbled of lost love, and her eyes smiled.
Time and age had drained her of consciousness,
stealing the current surroundings from her
and replacing them with the obtuseness
known only by those who soon become her.
She sits and thinks with laboriousness
until she succumbs and the drugs numb her.
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