The fallen
hair -
not the last -
on her shoulder,
a light burden.

Will the blade crack
when the last one falls?

Will she still be standing
tall?

Her shoulders stooped
like her height were a hindrance?

Her steps robotic
like she had no control?

Her sleep lost
like age was a problem?

Her dreams dying
like nightmare had to win?

Her breath slow
like fast was a crime?

Or,
will her last breath happen
before
the last hair falls?