Do They Sing?

Do They Sing?

Summer is slipping away early
Skies are darkening; there is a slight chill
What I thought was an errand of mercy is done -
But found no mercy was needed.

In the high shadowed room
Among the slumping figures,
Wheelchairs and aids for walking you smile,
Hair white but still thick, and say
“You look just like your mother.”

Beside her is a friend, a deeply lined, gypsy-dark woman;
They are eating sticky chocolate cake, the others too
Fingers go slowly to mouths
Eyes look into the distant inwards
The teeming past hovers over each grey or white head

The garden beyond the window glows
Grasses and flowers sway in a breeze that is now beyond them.
I have come empty-handed
Not knowing what a person could possibly need at the end of their life
But I do have a friend and her dog with me

“Do they sing?” demands the gypsy-dark woman
in a loud distinct voice. I stare helplessly at my friend
she starts to sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow
the shadows lift above the joining voices
we flow right out into the life that’s left
over the White Cliffs of Dover, along the Seigfried Line
floating over the rainbow as the room dissolves.