Berceuse

Wizened, premature skin,

Shrivelled muscles, on verge of crumbling

A comatic figure; helpless, at the mercy 

Is awaiting the disposal of her soul

In bed, under medical surveillance

Adamant, grandma is living and holding

The residue of the sand of her time

Firmly, avoiding any of them to fall

She is urging; she wants to rejuvenate 

And stay closer, holding, her progenies

Undissuaded, although dissumed by 

The melodious berceuse, composed by death

To let go, of the detrimental pain of her body,

And inhabit the afterlife; she resists 

Determined to live more for us

Eventually, the berceuse gets the upper hand

And grandma, knowing the futility of trying,

Is powerless; as her body heat dissipates

Forcing her soul to depart; her memories,

Her epic on earth remains unforgettable