Poem - 16 November 2023, 08:59

Clare under the rain

Clare doesn’t seem to be sad
she doesn't seem to be happy either
she doesn’t smile
something is wrong
she is not distracted, on the contrary
she stares in astonishment at
to what has just appeared
after the steam from the coffee
dissipated from the window pane

on the outside she sees raindrops
slowly sliding down
on the inside, the image of her face
clearly visible
where she realizes
that she has aged
all the years of her life
her skin has withered
waiting for the day
that never came and
the days she could let pass
perhaps are coming
to an end

Like 1 Pin it 1

Support CosmoFunnel.com

You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.

Views:

481

Rating:

Tags:

Poetry Genre:

Freestyle Melodrama Narrative Verse

Topic:

Reality

Listed in:

Contest Entries

2 comments

Comments

sparrowsong16 November 2023, 09:10

Hello Edwin...

So many people are saying old women are ugly with gray skin...

Sure, we don't look as pretty like at 20 unless you have a lot of money and a surgeon...

( Hope it's a really good one)...

Have you not noticed the Beautiful elderly woman on ice skates?

When men get old...

Have you seen some of them?

The reason for the beer bellies is to stretch out the wrinkles right?

This ugly sounding woman...

So sad...

Great write!

Thank you for sharing...

sparrowsong

edwin toninho17 November 2023, 04:09

Dear Sparrosong

Thanks for reading my poem. I am very happy to know that it has touched your soul.

I agree with you. People tend to use the image of a woman of certain age to represent the undesirable future in which misery and decay replace beauty and wealth, while men of similar age represent wisdom and longevity. It's wrong, but it makes silly sense, because those pictures are usually made by young people. Beauty is there, everywhere, in all of us, like love, but unfortunately only seen by those who wants to appreciate it or not.

My Clare (clear and transparent) is the representation of -the wait-, a woman of no age who has aged all the years of her living existence, because we don't get any younger and time, in its own perfection, doesn't stop to wait. My Clare waited too long sadly.

Thanks again Sparrosong
blessings