Each step was faltering.
She did not know how she could continue;
The loneliness a punch to the gut
Each time she recalled it.
She recalled it with each step.
As she walked
Her frame bowed and sagged,
The wind blown from her sails.
A small hand sought hers
And held her fingers tight,
Accompanying her death march
With a sprightly skip.
The change was almost imperceptible,
But with the next step,
She walked just a little taller.