The Old Lady

A Poem by Val Dohren

With furrowed brow and silvered hair
Crumpled low in her rocking chair
Draped in a shawl of tattered lace
A thousand years upon her face

And sallowed cheeks, the rosy cast
Of girlhood, having long since passed
She raised her eyes up to the sun
For now she knew her life was done

So many stories she had told
Across the years, as she grew old
But now the time was drawing near
To be with those she loved most dear

She meekly smiled and gave a sigh
In mem`ry of the years gone by
Then glanced down at her wedding band
Hung loose upon her withered hand

Her eyes then gazed towards the place
Where stood a portrait of his face
The first and only love she`d known
Which blossomed like a rose, full grown

And as she looked, her eyes grew dim
(She thought she caught a glimpse of him!)
But only shadows filled the room
The wilted rose, no more to bloom

She stroked her hair, and then her breast
Where once her sleeping children pressed
And in her lonely room did weep
Then passed into eternal sleep