My neighbour
waits patiently
for everything,
hands folded neatly
in her lap,
wearing her best
faded floral dress
pressed
to perfection.
Patiently
she waits
. . . for teatime,
. . . . . for answers,
. . . . . . . for death,
. . . . . . . . . for Jesus.
And when each comes
in its time,
she meets it
with dignity and grace.