Ninety-seven's lived to see her children
Into retirement and golden age.
Now she has become a burden, though
Each of them insists it isn't so,
Their voices not too difficult to gauge.
Years of love allow for no confusion.
So be it, then. She has no further mission
Except acceptance, to pass this final stage
Veiled in dignity from head to toe,
Embracing what no yearning can assuage,
Needing only clarity of vision.