Angela I saw my mother broken with a stroke, sitting by the window in her chair. My mind slipped: my heart felt it would die: my breathing froze upon the sunlit air. Sitting by the window in her chair my mother’s girlish body looked the same. In pretty clothes and rings, her hair brushed neat: I waited at the door and spoke her name. My mind slipped: my heart felt it would die: too soft my voice; so still she looked away. I walked towards her with my words of love. Each step compressed the memories of this day. My…