She was merely the shadow of her long gone past,
It was only her dim memories, that lingered
& last,
Her skin, the mere skein, of a moon moth´s whisper,
Her eyes, garbed in tears, of dawn´s misted
glisters,
Her hair, draped in silver, from old spiders
spun webs,
Her touch, fleeting as the song, from nightingale´s
nebs,
Silence tiptoes through her mind, in secrets
yet untold,
Smiling in the mirror, seeing her ageing beauty
unfold.
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