Waning Sun

It is almost to sun set,

Where the stars and moon would have met.

I see her eyes stretching across,

Over the horizon measuring the loss.

Un-disturbed sight tells tale,

Of misery, wisdom, strength and frail.

Tender hands have wrinkled in winter,

Sorrow and pain has been its marker.

Deep cracks on her face,

Life, now has no grace.

Alone, lone in the dark,

An idle waiting has made its remark.

Long sighs of her breaths

Are the reasons of her deep regrets.

The greyness of her hair

Leaves no experiences bare.

The furrow on the brow

And head hanging so low.

While she makes her way back

I follow her limping track.

Not assuming what I can fetch

Of her grieves and suffers I make a sketch.

Not a word, she utters,

In her own deep thoughts, she slumbers.

Dark curtains envelopes her,

The vista soon becomes blur.

I see her walking away,

Her image will always stay.