There she stood, holding the window bars like a prisoner...
She - a beautiful antithesis to beauty as we know it,
And the window - overlooking the busy street..
That sprinted while she strolled.
Her eyes looked expectant, did she want to get out?
To enjoy the outside?
But the wrinkles expressed a full life.
Perhaps her eyes expressed hope than expectation.
That we could still slow down, if we weren't so damn scared.
To live each moment fully and give it a chance,
To carve a wrinkle on our face.
Her wrinkles spoke of a million experiences,
All embraced, none denied - her eyes said that.
She was the silent island, in the noisy storm.
She was on the other side of the prison - looking in.
She - a beautiful antithesis to beauty as we know it,
And the window - overlooking the busy street..
That sprinted while she strolled.
Her eyes looked expectant, did she want to get out?
To enjoy the outside?
But the wrinkles expressed a full life.
Perhaps her eyes expressed hope than expectation.
That we could still slow down, if we weren't so damn scared.
To live each moment fully and give it a chance,
To carve a wrinkle on our face.
Her wrinkles spoke of a million experiences,
All embraced, none denied - her eyes said that.
She was the silent island, in the noisy storm.
She was on the other side of the prison - looking in.
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