In the dead of night
He will drop in
Spirit lost
A whiff of cough
Solitude on face
And in mind she works
The crutches
When house is dilapidated
All grandsons encompasses him
Soon on the table
A glass of milk
And of juice of pomegranate
She will say
Do you feel any pain
I will smudge balm
And another one
Take this shawl
Then a little bit of humour
To lighten his pensive mood
To make feel good at home.