She sat by the river, solemn and true,
Her eyes followed the rays as they grew.
The skies stood and watched her pose,
There was silence, I built my prose.
How long was it since she left the pram?
How did she cross that bridge or jam?
There were greys but no lines on her face,
She sat straight; her shirt had dainty old lace.
Maybe she’d walked miles to sit in peace,
There was a balance, she was no tease.
I felt a shiver to see her so calm,
Her eyes then rose, just like a soothing balm.
Fifty and five, that’s writ on my cards,
I often wonder, where are my singing bards?
She said, I have done it all, seen it all,
I now know when life woes give me a call.
I bowed my head and kissed her hand,
You are the woman with a magic wand!
Your moves speak of how you’ve dealt,
I am so naive, there’s so much to be felt.
You have aged to be strong and kind,
Hands are frail, but you’ve got a fiery mind.
How did you fight life and come so far?
We are so closed; our doors linger ajar.
Why can’t we see the good from the bad?
We know mistrust and sham as the fad.
I love the way you smile without care,
Oh lady, you certainly have a lot to share!