I will leave my footprints
on the grains of life
Have the chance to look
back, and smile at success
that walks before as
well as behind me

Growing old is a blessing,
and can be a surprise but
growing old does not mean

                growing up


Because          ^             is a choice

She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze