She Has Old Eyes
P Patti Masterman
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She has old eyes,
Old soul; a crone:
Flies high as a kite, lighter than stone
Who's seen everything and lived alone
Now her days are longer and nights disappear
In the blink of a loon, behind a loitering moon.
Her life more real than the things she's feared
Her fingers long, her grasp still strong.
Her breathing words can paint a world complete;
Or a path for wandering, worldly feet.
She's grown more wise, as her hair turned gray
Though her sleep is light, and she naps by day
Gives good advice, and you need not pay-
But you're never quite sure just what she'll say.
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