Smell the flowers
And blow out the candle.
She gasp for hours,
Something she can't get a handle.
She's tied to a noisy machine
And glued to her uncomfortable seat.
She wish she can get up and clean,
But she can't stand on her own two feet.
Like ice, she is freezen cold.
Her skin, pale as if she was a ghost.
In her left hand, is a bible she hold.
She cried "I love my family the most."
Her name, will not be written in stone!
Her soul, will not be swept from the sky!
A survivor is what's carved in her bone.
For I see so much life in her eye!
©semipoet77
S