her warm, dark eyes
watched perceptively,
beneath arched brow.
framed by her thick
brunette mane, cut short
as was her retirement.
she wore brimmed hats
for shade so her hair color
wouldn’t fade red in sun.
her coiffure was her crown,
until news of lung cancer
and chemo styled dread.
she fell ill with infection
that took her too quickly,
before chemo could begin.
at least, she was spared
losing her beautiful hair;
i wish i had one lock of it.
a poem in my pocket 