She changed the door to the color red, where they saw anger and sorrow
She saw roots and passion.
She changed her hair from red to gray, where they saw an aching aging
She saw roots and passion.
She changed the day from gray to white, where they saw the anxiety as something scary in it’s bright
She saw roots and passion.
…and she kept on seeing. What was behind her. Who are beside her. When her bests are still to come.
She’s full of light, full of flare. Her tears are clear, fires that hold a bonfire chill,
My dears.
The Ramblings of an Aging Woman... 