Graceful

Old, withered, stained. She invites you in to have a seat. As she drags her feet, the wheels are Turning on her balancing act. On an old, withered, stained sofa almost as old, withered, and stained as the women sitting on her chair, talking about the good old days. The same stories you have heard for the thousandth time this year alone. You can recite the stories by heart. You think to your self, OLD. she has aged gracefully. She has her stories, antiques, her memories. WITHERED. her beauty has became her. She has her beautiful wise hair. Her beautiful age spots. Her beautiful boney fingers. STAINED. she has gone through so many losses. Her husband, her sons, her grandkids. She is stained with the hurt. You look at the sofa. You think OLD. The sofa has aged as well. The beautiful memories. The beautiful sentiment, that can only be grown by time. WITHERED. No more coushion. You can feel the hard wood. You see the dis-colored threads coming out. STAINED. The grape-jelly her grandsons' spilled when they were three. The blood when her son's came in with cut up knees. The cola her husband had spilled when he was cheering on his favorite team. And all you can think is GRACEFULLY, old, withered, and stained.