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Old Woman

Poetry By: Sunnyson
Poetry


Tags: Life, Death


How short life is


Submitted:Mar 8, 2007    Reads: 203    Comments: 5    Likes: 0   


I see an old woman some day's

Her face is all withered and grey.

No red blooms there upon her cheek.

No rosy colour upon her mouth.

No sparkle in her old, old eyes.

��

History upon that face I see,

in every wrinkle, line and crease.

a lifetime story in eyes so old.

life, birth death and time are in

her weary eyes.

��

She knows me well or so she thinks

And I know her, but do I?

I don't know.� I don't recognise her anymore

When I see her.

She used to look so different.�

But when was that? I don't recall.

Voices echo down through times

great hall, telling of when she had it all.

Youth, love, friends.� But most of all,

Time.� She had time.

Ah yes Death� you old knave.�You will see her to her grave

Walk with her, her final steps.

So much she hasn't seen or done!

but she knows her day�has come, her life will be undone.

�And� you�will still be�when she is�dead and gone.

��

You'll turn your pages and history will be

Forgotten, a whole life history.�

New lives will be written.� A new one for every old.

And a new story will begin to unfold.

��

I asked the old woman if she was ready for you now,

I said maybe tomorrow I'm not done with today, yet.




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