A crowded room

Among 15 elderly women,
The only moving thing
Was the wind brushing through their hair.

I was pacing impatiently,
Like a forest
In which predators stalk their prey.

The floor craked beneath my feet.
It was a break from the eerie silence.

Young and old
Are one.
Grandparents, grandchildren and their family
Are one.

The olderest lady is dying.
The grim reaper must be coming.