Free Verse Poetry

Old Widow Is Back at Work

Photo by Minh Pham on Unsplash | FOR REPRESENTATION PURPOSES ONLY

The old widow is back at work;
Sick she appears,
Tired, drooling, she sighs, wipes the sweat
Off her forehead.
Right on the lane she’s trod for years,
She’s seen sitting;
Her mane, unkempt, white, reaches breasts
Covered by aba,
One that is mangled, torn, too messed.
The old widow,
Former charmer,
Once loved,
Now maimed,
White-haired,
Flown at by work,
Is back at work.

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A basket rests in front of her;
It bears fresh fruits.
Her face withal is all but fresh,
For she has aged;
The wrinkles on her face look like
Paths that wind, twist;
Her eyes appear as cold as ice;
She’s but ready,
Quite ready to be slain, felled
To rise again
Perhaps in her next birth as child
Of some monarch.
The old widow,
Former charmer,
Once loved,
Now maimed,
White-haired,
Flown at by work,
Is back at work.

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She is still, sullen seconds after;
Her eyes tell tales
Even as her mouth mouths words none get.
Something’s awry;
The day she absented herself,
Something transpired,
For her smile is now gone, missing;
Remains now just
A flesh without a soul, conscience.
Her sunk eyes meet mine, and she yelps;
Yelp’s painful, weak,
Her meek self is now also weakened;
It’s heard then, ‘He’s dead.’
‘Deceased is Son, passed last morning.’
But the old widow
Former charmer,
Once loved,
Now maimed,
White-haired,
Flown at by work,
Is back at work.

DO READ | Pompeii

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