Nana

She went to him,
twice each day
and fed him
from a spoon,
baby-sized bites of banana.
Some days he called her, "Mommy,"
others he saw her
as a stranger.
Very few days
did he call her "Dear."
Still,
everyday she went to him
to hold his hand.
For nearly a life time before
she had promised,
"For better or for worse."
And although he
would have known no diffrence,
she would have.


I wrote this poem in highschool, about a long time family friend. In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I felt compelled to share it now. It has been published under my maiden name.