Her robe is threadbare; tattered
Her form is gaunt and bent
And on her cheeks are scattered
The tears of time’s lament
Yon lass of buxom beauty
Has yielded to the breeze
Her portion of life’s duty
A page of memories
…and yet she seems to hasten
Habits die slow and hard
Experienced whispers chasten
The dazed and dream-struck bard
She plucks with purposed candor
In guile-less honesty
Each season of its splendor
Each child upon the knee
Borne on the burnished morning
Benevolent disguise
As Wisdom’s steadfast warning
Reveals deception’s lies
Eager and yet reluctant
She pauses at the door
Where hope, keen and expectant
Will take her place once more
Her dirge is over-taken
By her successor’s birth
Ah, hope remains unshaken
Though she sleeps in the earth
There is a time for laughter
There is a time for tears
‘Before’ is soon the ‘after’
This is the way of Years
© Janet Martin
You have captured times test on us beautifully here Janet....as always a pleasure to read your lovely poetry!
ReplyDeleteCarrie, from a poet such as yourself, these kind words are esp. appreciated.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your visit. You have a lovely blog and are a talented poetess.
ReplyDelete