The sunlight strikes the ruby glass and jug,
It stains the lacy folds with crimson light,
And settles there upon the woven rug.
The room is shaded, musty, cool as night.

I look towards the gloom where lies the dread,
My aunt behind me pushes at my back.
I drag my feet and slowly touch the bed,
Afraid of what I’ll see on pain-filled rack.

Old lady reaches for my cringing hand.
Dry skin and brittle nails enclose my arm,
Her toothless grin and shrunken gums demand,
A struggle to retain my fragile calm.

But then I see that eyes show love the same,
As on her trembling lips I hear my name.