There once lived an old woman who

Sat in a creaky, worn out rocking chair.

All day she would gaze out her bedroom window,

Sitting, rocking, gazing.

What she was looking at? It appeared as if nothing.

Only the endless grass fields that seemed to go on forever.

The same fields that had brought her so much joy as a child,

And provided limitless amounts of freedom.

Youth was a happy time for her,

Yet the images and scenes began to grow foggy.

Her mind filled with spurts of darkness and hollow nooks

Where vacations and meaningful friendships used to live. 

Perhaps that is what is behind her stare,

Memories and feelings that fade 

Deeper and farther away from her consciousness.

The more she sat, rocked, and gazed,

The more the sun rose and set,

Each cycle adding less remembrance

And more perceptions that were muddled

With confusion and bouts of fear.

Fear of the unknown, or maybe

It was what she knew that feared her most.

But still she enjoyed her chair,

Sitting, rocking, gazing,

Until there was nothing more to sit on,

Nothing more for her to rock, 

And certainly nothing left to see.