July 21, 2011

The Years

Dry spring air shifts all around
this long afternoon
She sits in the shaded backyard
of her oldest child's home,
with a soft blanket covering her blue viened, thin legs
The years have cascaded by, taken with them
the once abundantly youthful ways of her skin
The once glowing flesh now sags
She is weathered by
decades of life;
creases and wrinkles
Her flesh is now as shriveled as those
oak leaves which fall gracefully to the grass
Her once cascading hair is short grayish curls
The hands are bony and shake
She still remembers when
men craved her curves,
gave long caresses across plump breasts
and spent time wanting a kiss
The memories of lovers
of forbidden desires
or unsatisfied wants
flitter in her now semi-dormant thoughts
Occasionally she'll reminisce
and for a moment, she is once more
that fluttering young butterfly
even if only in her mind

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