she knits
beside the fire.
the day is over.
there is still a life
to be lived.
but the flame
is low.
the heat of youth has escaped.
it's winter
now.
i'm done she says.
not looking up from her
lap
and the shawl
that lies before her.
I know what love is.
but no more.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment