And when she was lonely…she would go into the room…
where all who lived…knew her well…

Her hands would touch…her lips…silently moving…would
punctuate the talk…with a smile…or a frown…an occa-
sional “Oh My”…

If it was cold…she would wrap herself…in the natted blue
sweater…knitted by a grandmother…so many years ago…If
warm….the windows were opened…to allow the wind…to
partake of their pleasure…

Holidays were never sad…seasons in fact…unchanging…
Family    and     friends…lovers    and    longings…rested…
waited….never to betray…never to leave her…

Her books…her secret life…in the room with the tapestry
rug…