And she thinks..
What if they knew?
Those who pass by do not
notice her,nor do they capture
the knowing look in her deep
blue eyes..
The unwary stranger is oblivous
to the cheeks that had become
a stream of tears..tears that burned
qa thousand heart breaks from her
now wrinkled brow..
The make-up is a bit smudged
Only the soil from her garden flowers
provide the embellishment on her
world weary face
But she remembers her younger days
She remembers when her long fingers
and polished nails could melt him with
a touch..
She remembers..
When she could unbutton that black
silk blouse and any would be observer
would truly know the fires of the
female mystique..
But alas..she must content herself with
pruning the spring roses..
Yet there is still fire in her breasts-