What is she searching for?
She is a lone climber on the craggy mountain atop,
A septuagenarian, whose wrinkles on her white face,
Unfolded her age, aging and struggling,
betrayed her strife with life, strewn with her
ambition and hard work, not to be dubious,
to b e deceived by the sham,frivoulous,
yet, her fast pace upward the hill,
she was once a mountain like, erect,
who was inching upwards, self conscious,
what happened to the improvised, thatched
cottage? Where is the stone epitaph for the
dog, her lifelong companion and protector?
Where is the shady Sycamore?
Her breathless steps answer her,
What more is there for her to search for?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment