Frozen in the fuming hearts
molten in the summits by sunshine
niether her face nor her shame leaves her
only a rag flutters in the wind
baring her skin to the storms of time
In her hands she holds blisters since ages
niether the morning nor the night leaves her
only her broken staff measures path
touching her feet every time she falls
Casteaway skin she touches when she bathes
niether stains nor satin leave her soul
only some silver strands colour her hair
and bring time to a stand still
leaving only memories of an empty yesterday....
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