Old Woman
She lacks vitality anymore,
And the lines sing the songs,
Of the life in the vinyl of her face.
Her smiles feign surprise,
And are riddled with disappointment,
Her lids are teardrops, hovels,
Wherein lives the earth and the sun,
Growing that which she has lost,
Once upon a time,
In a memory,
In a dream,
One of each she forgot,
Only to be reminded,
Each time the wind blows,
And it is her hair that clings,
As it is tossed about,
To the thoughts,
She does not recognize anymore.
Invino Veritas
11/16/13
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