Age

Old woman, sit. You're a cornerstone, As gray as the marble vase. Your hands are as gnarled As the oldest trees. There are furrows in your face. But something shines from behind your eyes; A soft and clear, unwavering light. Something that declares your soul still young, And still transcends the night. Old woman, Do you search the skies in dreams; Dance across the meadows grass? Do you hold your babies to your breast, And still dream that love will last? Old woman, You've earned your rest. Behind your eyes, I see your light. Your mind retraces each graceful step, As golden sunset illuminates your dance, And your heart reaches for youth's rhapsody. Copyright Chula Flemling May 22, 1986