beautiful woman

there was a placid elegance 

to the manner in which 

she draped her aged,

delicate, long fingers – still and calm – 

upon, the trouser folds arrayed 

atop her knee

and crackled a soft chuckle,  

and replied
the words, “in theory” 

when I asked, if things were going better –

for she’d had a bout of misery:  

bad luck, bad health as bad . . . 

about as tough as hard, hard days of living 

–  dismally – can be: 

for old ladies – alone and poor.

“It’s all good”, she smiled:  bright,  

kind – warmly, tenderly . . .

as she struggled to her feet  

and took her cane

– her bowed back, an arc:  

a hunched, stooped arc, 

of mean, relentless weary pain –

and gushed: “Just wonderful ! ! !  

to come . . . upon you, once again.” 

photo:  Old Building: Hanging In, Cheerily - W. Bourke

© 2014 Wendy Bourke