As a white candle
In a holy place,
So is the beauty
Of an aged face.
As the spent radience
Of the winter sun,
So is a woman
With her travail done.
Her brood gone from her,
And her thoughts as still
As the waters
Under a ruined mill.
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This is the reason I come to oldpoetry.Such simplicity with a punch.My heart is always warmed when I come in here and read pieces like this.Jacki d
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