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She Has a Story to Tell
She has an intense look about her,
Worry lines etched into the fabric of her face,
Crow's feet lining the corners of her eyes,
Lips tight against her face like a lemon sucked down to the rind,
Her eyes are a cloudy blue,
Like her vision,
Fading at the edges,
All the colors blurred together,
On some it may have looked like,
w e a k n e s s,
But on her it looks like,
s t r e n g t h.
Like she saw what she saw,
And doesn't need to see anymore,
And with my 20/20 vision,
And life ahead of me,
Well, I could never compare,
And she leans forward,
Her joints creaking like her old rocking chair,
Sipping tea,
The floral scent curling in her stomach,
Biting on her tongue in a way that satisfies,
She leans back up,
Moisture beading on the wispy hairs on her lip,
She beckons me over,
Arthritic hand lumpy and deformed,
I settle into my favorite seat,
The one with the threadbare cushion,
And the,
Legs that always wobble when I laugh,
At the words that flow out of her mouth,
Wavering and old,
But convinced of their own truth,
She may be old,
But she has a story to tell.
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