The woman… had faded more than the others of similar age.
Beyond what is eerily unique.
Encompassing much that many would consider…adept physique.
There had been no love lost.
Between citizens, denizens and the female of frost.
Gray indeed, this creature of comfort.
Wrinkled, hand upon well trodden hand, she stood still.
As if to say,
‘I am here, dear…lend me your fill.’
And, with a chaotic turn of reddened cheek…
one became two.
Our woman of age, had the company of…someone new.
If one were to turn away.
A stranger, perhaps.
They would have missed…love’s aftermath.
Subsequently, being of similar mind.
I could not let go of my everyday find.
What a couple of friends…turned another way?
Obviously, the two women, were perturbed with the storm’s dismay.
How simple it must have been to lend an open palm to another?
Beyond, charity, the woman of notice…had been aiding her lover.
As cursory as…a New Hampshire blizzard.
I took note of how beautiful love ages…with just a convenience visit.
So lovely, had been the flakes falling in the backdrop.
Eloquent maturity in the feel of another.
The knowing of which is grace.
what is the gentile feminine pace.
My morning ended in its usual organized chaos.
Yet, I could not help but wonder,
‘What of the older woman at my pit stop.’
Over exposed…too commercialized, the need for youth.
Give me a moment alone with love’s lifeline.
Just a second, unnoticed with just two.
Just two…furrowed in tenderness…everyday…as something, new.