Grandma’s Last Days

you were right there
on the aged carpet sprouting with early risers
with your pale wiry legs relaxed
and your head tilted downward

you were right there
fixed in a peripheral maze
tracing a triangular mandala of woven creativity
with the tip of your gaze

you were right there
defying doctors' premonitions
wayfaring with your eyes
despite the nervous restrictions

you were right there
in your own little migration,
with your sagging eyebags as heavy feet,
finding purpose
after dark