View From the Mirror

The room is warm

Thread on a table

The old lady sleeps in a chair

The lamp is dim

Lace ties the curtains

The scissors dangle from a hatch

The tea's gone cold

In her china cup

The cat's curled up by the fire

Behind the door

A persistent sleep

She keeps a lifetime locked away

Her mother's voice

That goes through the past

She cuts the roses to the ground

A book is closed

Her mouth slightly open

The floorboards creak in the hall