A Woman’s Story
A Woman’s Story
The lines on the face tell a story,
Of days spent in all their sorrow and glory.
From a young coy girl as a new bride,
And the life thereafter that she took in her stride.
The endless evenings as she waited for her husband’s few kind words,
After a long day on the slopes gathering the goatherds.
His family who didn’t think twice before casting any slur,
Forgot that this wisp of a girl in the adult world was still an amateur.
Motherhood came when she herself was barely out of her teens,
Young herself, she had another soul to look after and feed.
Three more children came in quick succession,
And that in effect stopped her self-progression.
Now, decades later, the furrowed face speaks volumes,
Of life’s ebbs and flows and ups and downs.
A wizened old face with peppered hair and fingers gnarled,
Sits as passive as a wise old oak overlooking the hectic activity of the world.