Frances

The overstuffed chair
slouches to one side
to fit her body.

A plastic palm tree lamp
her husband bought
when they first married
stands beside her.

She reads the paper,
cuts out coupons,
works on her needlepoint,
daydreams of square dancing.

As she closes her eyes,
heavy blue framed glasses
slide down her round face
towards her half opened mouth
that sings a lullaby.