The Old Lady
Created | Updated Aug 29, 2002
Ok, I have to admit, this isnt my best work. In fact I wrote it in year 8 or 9 and I was just browzing through my PC data base. So I thought I should show you how strange my brain thought bak then. HAHA! Pleaz forgive it... My other stories are seven pages long and are no where near finished. It is an unriming poem. Its called a picture poem. Hope u like it better than I do. ;)
The old woman moved in a pained way.
Her arithtic hands gripped a walking cage.
Her once beautiful face had turned into dilapidated despair.
The footpath, dirty and stained,
threatened to trip the old woman.
Her old glasses were seated
at the end of her nose.
She crinkled up her face as a memory,
long forgotten, drifted to her.
Without looking up
she shuffled along.
Her worn shoes, made of leather,
creased from over use.
Onto the scummy road her feet took her.
A dirty red car raced down the road,
sweeping up dust as it went.
The sound of brakes.
The smell of burning rubber.
The walking cage buckled.
The old woman was no more.
The old woman moved in a pained way.
Her arithtic hands gripped a walking cage.
Her once beautiful face had turned into dilapidated despair.
The footpath, dirty and stained,
threatened to trip the old woman.
Her old glasses were seated
at the end of her nose.
She crinkled up her face as a memory,
long forgotten, drifted to her.
Without looking up
she shuffled along.
Her worn shoes, made of leather,
creased from over use.
Onto the scummy road her feet took her.
A dirty red car raced down the road,
sweeping up dust as it went.
The sound of brakes.
The smell of burning rubber.
The walking cage buckled.
The old woman was no more.
