Her Old Age

A frown so down,

A clock whose hands have begun to unbound.

Worn and torn, stories untold

Mind so twisted, face so wrinkled.

Wrecked is the mind, so old yet so, twisted.

Eyes are too bold, yet slightly misted.

Eyes are too flawed,

Yet a sight to be awed.

Skin too nimble, yet a sweat taste to nibble.

Bones are too nimble,

Yet not disassembled.

Heart is too old, though not yet sold.

Heart is too old, yet never burdened.

Heart is too old, yet never too faint.

Heart is too old, yet a picture to paint.