P
pinkster
Guest
There's a woman I pass everyday;
she sits in the same spot, at the same time.
Unbelievably, she reminds me of sister sorrow,
so full of pain as if yesterday was still today.
Her eyes, a shade of unnatural blue;
but you couldn't stop staring once she caught your eye.
So weary did you look at you,
like a mother would her son after a long day.
Cropped short and unruly,
her hair a color once brilliant,
but now a faded gold.
The white streaks are reminders of a past life,
one she lived with many decisions.
What intrigued me the most were her hands –
they were so elegant yet strong.
You just knew she worked her life away.
09.26.03
she sits in the same spot, at the same time.
Unbelievably, she reminds me of sister sorrow,
so full of pain as if yesterday was still today.
Her eyes, a shade of unnatural blue;
but you couldn't stop staring once she caught your eye.
So weary did you look at you,
like a mother would her son after a long day.
Cropped short and unruly,
her hair a color once brilliant,
but now a faded gold.
The white streaks are reminders of a past life,
one she lived with many decisions.
What intrigued me the most were her hands –
they were so elegant yet strong.
You just knew she worked her life away.
09.26.03