Silver Strands

She sits quietly, staring at the fire
Lost in a world of reflection
The lines upon her face
Softened by the caress of time

Shadows of her years have lengthened
Her memories play among the flames
A husband taken, still held dearly
Children raised and taught to fly

Silver strands, the gift of seasons
Shine softly in the fires glow
A crown bestowed upon this lady
A wooden rocker for her throne

 

About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at poormanspoet.wordpress.com to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
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4 Responses to Silver Strands

  1. laurie27wsmith says:

    This is good Bob.

    Like

  2. splitspeak says:

    Dignified is how I would describe this. Beautiful.

    Love, Mehak

    Like

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