The Wheel
She was once her mother’s doll,
cleaned with care and hugged
and proudly wheeled.
At the doctor’s office mom now waits,
bears the weight of almost a century.
A knit hood around her head,
and a black coat – is just strapped
tenderly about.
Now and then her head drops,
as if pulled by a past remembrance.
Was it in old Havana? Old San Juan?
El viejo Nueva York?
An ivory shawl drapes over her knees
to where her feet are crossed
in pure white socks and soft
black slipper shoes.
Her now grey doll returns
holding a new appointment.
She exchanges a few words then proceeds
to wheel her home, as clean and hugged
and proudly wheeled as she once was.