Wisps of frost on aging head,
wrinkled creases, wisdom’s crown;
joints to pain and creaks are wed,
Folds replace a youthful gown.
Even so, her smile is strong
though sorrow lines her blinded eyes;
beauty marks her dying song
as Winter sings her last good-byes.
please let it be her last song π
I’m with you! π
Love the conviction in that one! Can’t wait for your spring images & poems….
That makes 2 of us!! π
Must be a long song – because I can still hear her.
Quick! Hit the mute button! π
I loved the hope in this! Need the hope in this! haha! Thank you, Melody!
Faith is getting out the gardening catalogs when the snowdrifts block your door to the garage…
Beautiful
Thanks so much! π
Nicely pondered. Well of you.
Thank you! π