A E O N

Pale is thy cheek ,

weary are thy eyes,

thou hast carried woe as yer child,

kept it hidden,

misery as yer friend,

agonies yer biography,

truth would decorate thee ,

like a garland in yer soft grey locks,

for yer beauty lies in knowledge,

of years of wisdom,

wrinkled be thy skin,

it holds the folds of life stacked together,

of age ye hast come,

leaving back the vigour,

the youth,

time hath shown signs unto you,

the hands that shooketh not ,

now art frail and shaky,

thou art the pearl of the sea ,

with elegance has time moulded you,

into a jewel ,

O! lady , O! mother,

these hands soothed the warm forehead,

with fever and pain when it suffered,

strengthened and fed the youth,

taught and groomed ,

and let go off,

alone again in thy nest ye rest now ,

with memories ,

treasured and kept precious ,

in the heart that hast stayed young.