Brittle
Bones like leaf-veins
Barely enough to keep
Her from flying away
Face like chalk
Easily washed from memory
Early tiredness
Draws upon it
The waning of life
Lines etched too soon
Onto her features
No haste, no rush
But age comes for her
Without regard to
Her true love
She is patient
With age
And allows it to mold her
Her face, mind, and actions
But not her truthfulness
Her honesty stays the same
Even though the gray light
Shines through her
And the sunset is the only thing to
Add color to her complexion
She was always brittle
Though never breakable
Vines have deep roots
And she has patience
So she waits for love to catch up
And see her true light again