Image courtesy of One Million Vaginas
The Beauty of Old Women
By Annette Marie Hyder
Her hair is white gold
beaten and refined —
it, like she, has been beaten with years
limned with laughter and refined with tears.
Her skin is a marvel of fragile paper
with all the words of her life so far
writ in whispers
light as butterflies
but strong enough
to carry the river’s stones
loud enough, if you can ken,
to shake you to your bones.