I Saw An Old Woman The Other Day
I saw an old woman the other day,
she walked with a bent posture,
her age had apparently outran her,
just like all the others.
I threw a glance her way,
Just another one, counting down their days I thought.
But then she raised her eyes,
and I looked into them,
Those piercing green eyes,
They tell a story; those eyes of hers,
Every speck of unconformity, every twitch of the pupil,
Her joy and sadness, among countless others I'd imagine,
The moment of her moments: a compilation of her stories.
I suddenly felt overwhelmed,
Beholding such a sight,
Its rattled my heart and trembled me inside.
I think I might've stared too long,
because her eyes smiled at mine,
as i become a part of her story,
and she, a part of mine.
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