A gray old woman sits all alone,

Unloved, uncherished, and unknown.

Staring at her blury world,

Dreaming of days that passed long ago.

 

Purple veins strain against the skin,

Pale, translucent, paper-thin.

Now wrinkled and fragile, weak and sore,

So many things she can’t do anymore.

 

The things she used to do with ease,

Now cause aches and pains,

Her body shows wear and tear,

Too often her memories fail.

 

Hands that held her children near,

That gently dried their salty tears.

Now has skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,

Brown spots from years that she can’t erase.

 

Yesterday her hair was brown,

Her skin was smooth, tan all around.

Her shoulders straight, her posture proud,

And her voice had strength to call out loud.

 

It’s true, maybe now she is older,

Feeling lonely may be status quo.

But it also has made her more willing,

To forgive and let past conflicts go.

 

Maybe to some she looks ugly and old,

A person who barely exists.

She is still quite aware of the beauty inside,

And her value should not be dismissed.

 

But still has..

Soul so strong they could carry the weight,

That would never give up and never forsake.

Soul that took little but always gave,

Smiles that applauded with each achievement made.

 

Her heart can still feel endless love,

And at times it still can ache.

Her soul can still feel sympathy,

which longs for peace and forgiveness.

 

Although not as strong and no beauty, it’s true,

Wants so much to live and get out of the blue.

She knows that there’s no one in the world quite like her,

And no one who has more to give.