She Sat Alone
by Belinda Roddie
She sat alone with all her vintage books,
counting each one from her small, wooden perch.
Her coats remained hung on their metal hooks,
for she had not been outside since the church
incident twenty years ago. And yet
she never read the stories that she kept,
nor tell them to the red-haired, beaming set
of grandchildren she had. Still, as she slept,
she dreamed of tales she'd heard while still a child:
In songs hummed by her mother, anecdotes
provided by her father, and the wild
adventures recalled on her uncle's boats
as they sailed out to sea. She'd never need
to touch these books. Besides, she couldn't read.