a nursing home - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

The woman sits in the chair by the window until she is moved back to the bed. In the bright spring daylight her hair is snowy and skin like a wax dummy, crudely carved with tools too sharp. Her head is in constant motion as if agreeing with sentiments no-one else can hear or perhaps the ruminations of her own mind, mulling over a lifetime that draws to a close. On her dresser stand many photographs including a black and white wedding portrait. The bride stands tall and proud with a bouquet of newly opened roses, glowing beside a man a head taller than herself. When my eyes flick between the two, the woman and her youthful self, I understand why people call time a thief. It steals so much, just slowly, until the last grain falls from our personal hour-glass and we are reclaimed by the Almighty.