Bones like leaf-veins

Barely enough to keep

Her from flying away

Face like chalk

Easily washed from memory

Early tiredness

Draws upon it

The waning of life

Lines etched too soon

Onto her features

No haste, no rush

But age comes for her

Without regard to

Her true love

She is patient

With age

And allows it to mold her

Her face, mind, and actions

But not her truthfulness

Her honesty stays the same

Even though the gray light

Shines through her

And the sunset is the only thing to

Add color to her complexion

She was always brittle

Though never breakable

Vines have deep roots

And she has patience

So she waits for love to catch up

And see her true light again