A Woman Of A Certain Age



Is it in the lines?
The little ones around the eyes.
Little creases in the skin,
that you can tell a Woman is,
of a certain age?

Starts out baby smooth,
then time and trouble,
start to add lines.

One for each time,
the heart is broken,
one for each lover lost,
for each child born,
one for each illusion shattered.
One for each bitter disappointment.

Is it in the lines?
Can you see that the Woman is,
of a certain age?

One line for each betrayal,
one for each hundred promises broken.
Lines for talent and potential ignored.
One for each subtle insult endured.
One for each cruel sexist remark tolerated.
And for Love, 
a lot of deep lines for Love.

New love found, old love lost.
Child love, Mother love,
the white hot heat of physical love.
Mature love, comfortable and easy love.
The old roller coaster, up then down.

Worry, fear, joy,
hope, dreams, ambition,
contrition and frustration,
a lot of lines for frustration.

In the middle of life,
the lines begin to merge and blend,
a look in the mirror confirms,
a touch of grey.

The face has become,
the story line in that,
comedy-tradegy called life.
The lines begin to converge
and gain form, 
finally, the story is told,
On the beautiful face of a Woman.

by John.L. Arnold...