An Old Woman's Saga of Life
She leaned on her stick like the Tower of Pisa
Her bones, porous and brittle, might break any day
She’s all alone, her husband dead and gone
Her only son, years before, shot down by a gun
Sombre shadows now darken her path
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
When young lovers’ clasp and their fingers twine
She happily recalls the time she was with him
She lived a life of love, coloured in enduring tints
Looking back, she has no cause for remorse!
Her spine’s bent, unable to straighten itself
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
She oft recounts her youth’s glitter and glow
That takes her back to life’s bygone splendour
She lived content, her tasks as wife and mother, fulfilled
Now she is a garment no longer fit to wear
Will soon be reaped by the scythe of fate
Still there is a rare glow in her eyes
Now that her days are numbered,
Before her, the sole image of a beauteous form
The loving hands of God waiting to embrace her
This aged pilgrim focuses only on that goal in view
To the grave she quickly treads, never to return
And there is a rare glow in her eyes!
Placed First in the poetry Contest
Strand's (1054) Poetry Contest
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