Peckham Green

She sits there, silent, still.

 

Lips gently pursed and hands neatly folded on her lap.still.

 

I can’t see even the most gentle flutter of eyelashes yet I sense her breath

 

It whispers to me. Cracked and laboured, her gaze fixed.

 

And as she stares out, watching the world move around her, I wonder who or what she is waiting for.

 

I ponder her past, the tears she’s cried, tears she’s dried and I wonder about her lovers, her one true love and the ones that got away. She must have seen it all.

 

Her hollow eyes are brimming with memories past

 

And how now she sits patiently waiting, open and raw in her aged wisdom. And I wonder…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s