In a Hospital Waiting Room

Apologetically through open doors

She came, a few spring flowers in her hand--

Somebody's mother, sweet as mine or yours.

To see her was to feel and understand

The bond of sisterhood. How lovingly

The years had lined her face and bent her form!

A trim nurse entered: There began to be

A smile like April sunshine after storm,

"For you, Miss Nancy!"--Eyes like sun-up glow--

"You made no difference. Your touch was light

As winds in southern gardens breathe and blow.

You held these hands--your smooth ones pearly white."

Her voice held mellow flute-tones of the lark--

What matter that her chrysalis was dark!