In her eyes soft glances glimpses of empty stares hopelessness In her hands soft to touch of tenderness soft as satin yet worn of age In her arms my tiny body once laid, now Failing attempts each arm's made In her face lights glow joy she shows but, now drawn from age In her words her voice alerting as bells ringing now gibberish from illness In her heart family she once nestled, now she patently lingers awaiting her long rest Linda Terrell March 11, 2010 When our parents grow old we long for their youthful appearances. However, we love them all the more, for they await as their bodies fail them day to day. Awaiting Gods long rest.