Dignity

A queen forever in my heart.

A moment of recognition
 flashed across her face.
She knew me.
But that was not possible.
We never met before.
This did not matter.
I sat down close to her 
and held her splendidly wrinkled
milk chocolate hand
in my caramel one.
For a moment, she looked like a queen
with her hair wrapped 
in a silken turban
and her broad face
that housed her features
in perfect proportion.
Her bed was angled so 
she could face the window.
It felt like we were in the sky,
So naturally she said,
"I'm glad we are landing.
How was your flight?"
We talked about how we hated flying
and that we were glad to be
at our final destination. 
"How's your mother?" she asked.
I talked about how my mom 
is just fine in Florida.
"Oh, she's in Florida now?
You know the place I love—
Texas.
I loved to eat grapes there."
Then we talked about God,
and she looked even more queenly—
like a woman who knew Him in her bones.
She quoted Psalm 23 from memory.
Twice.
And shouted Amen and Hallelujah.
We prayed together quietly,
my words intermingled 
with her "Yes, Jesus," whispers.
We parted as friends—
me, an old friend to her,
her, a new one for me. 
No matter. 
A queen forever in my heart.