The woman who grew
In front of my eye, she knew
With her lovely scent
Like aloe on my freshened wound
Not the way she was
Because that was still new
But I had her in my heart
Like a teary onion stew
Sat in a chair, without a care
Because her spirit was always there
Crossed legs and harms hanged
Her outline was free and hemmed
Like a quilt on the end
Nice enough to attract a smile
But blunt enough with a pulse
To send you on your blissful course
There something about this gray haired woman
Everything was but a moment .