Inner seasoning

Inner seasoning

her hands give away her secret fear

 small and bony, age lines etch dry tracks over once supple skin,
her breasts no longer sat pert and pretty without something

strong to keep them in place, stubborn lumps of flesh had a mind of their own

triple-stitched seams assured to keep them in place...

and even then, not what you’d pert... or pretty... just there;
hair hangs in long waves... grey streaked, just when did it go grey

and why... why grey...grey  like winter morning
the bags under her eyes, perpetual smudges that 

deepened in shade with the twilight hours

a mouth that turned down at the sides

inverted creases that knew not how to smile...

now she smiles inwardly  as the seasons pass by

borderline cynical... as pessimistic as

the weekend weather report
not feeling the need to question life

deep down inside where no one went

she was a woman of hard- won simplicity,
to gain this fragile peace  she had had to forfeit certain liberties

in order to un-complicated her life
and uncluttered her days,
built up passion that had nowhere to go
sighs that no one heard,
longings that woke her from troubled sleep
on hot summer nights

 when silence beat against her eardrums

like a mad midnight tattoo...

moments when she longed to be kissed
to feel that achingly satisfying merge of lips on lips,
electrical tingling too thrilling to defy ...

and then, there were those tranquil nights
when bathed in the pale moons luminous smile
hypnotized by stars in a black velvet sky
she didn't need to question  life

she felt uplifted and alive and infinitely stronger
then she once thought in a time before she taught her spirit
to rejoice in simplicity;

sharonlee