She tries to be a gracious host
to an audience of ghosts,
gliding through the mist
to see the chairs are set just so.
It's hard to plan, not knowing
who is coming, when they're going.
Still she tries to organize
a captivating show.
Striving to improve her best
with each song or dance or jest,
no matter what the size, she tries
to render well her part.
The few bouquets she gathers,
strewn like iridescent feathers,
fall mutely through the fog,
but she holds them to her heart.
