She sits so quiet and content
She flips through the pages
She only reads the classic ones
Hamlet, Macbeth, and Moby dick sorts.
She reaches to the left with her gray peach fuzzy arm.
Long, bony fingers
Grasp the stem
Of her glass of iced tea.
She sets the glass back down
As the fog on the glass
Begins to fade.
She clocks her left wrist.
Gets to moving towards lunch
Where her state of the art kitchen awaits.
She yanks open the stainless steel door,
You'd think it was too advanced for her.
Hardly.
She makes her way towards her chair.
Her chair in the corner,
And goes back to reading her classic novels.