life of the party

at this

age, now, 

in the winter

of her life,

it's easy

to concede

that she's a marvelous

antique,

an heirloom of sorts,

fragile

with silvered hair

and skin like a parchment

scroll

from the Dead Sea.

when she speaks

we listen,

and when she doesn't

speak we wait

for some snippet

of wit,

or wisdom to fall

like petals

from her soft spoken

lips.

they say she was life

of the party.

still is.