Perishing she sits defeated,

Perching on the edge of a narrow bed, Placing glasses on the cold floor, Patting her rumbling belly.

Perishing she eats her oats,

Perching smelly milk on the dusty desk,

Placing a patched coat about her shoulders,

Patting damp cushions to support her arthritic back.

Perishing she hobbles to the post office,

Perching her worn stick against the counter,

Placing her meagre pension inside a plastic bag, Patting flakes of skin from her labour damaged hands.