Crochet + Lace

Her smile was but
A bloody scar
Etched upon her leathered skin

A slash made wide
With bitter knives
Honed sharply
On her cobwebbed sins 

A valiant mask
That sat too well
Upon her grizzled face

Though most were happy
To be fooled
By great age and 
Her crochet lace

M P 27/4/22