Image 'Four Seasons by Alfons Mucha - courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

I've been indisposed for a while, but glad to be back. This is one 'I made earlier', but revised. And I should add, I'm entirely on her side!


Her teeth white as milk
and a complexion so fair,
the spring sun does now
tint her rich auburn hair;
for now, the blush of youth
ripens to a comely grace,
as all Springtimeís pleasures
she most willingly embrace,
In the gladness of her face.

Summer comes glad to stay,
while she enjoys every hour
reposing in her lovers bower;
and while time slowly extends,
in her beauty she finds content;
for all that is lovely and fair,
justly reflects what is there:
fields of new-ripened corn,
in the sunshine of her hair.

It was on an Autumn day
while she was looking away
at russet leaves now falling,
her latest young manís love
took up his clothes and left,
leaving her for once bereft,
in her porch softly crying,
as he rode away on his horse.

She combs her long dyed hair,
as winter comes as a reminder
of all thatís been left behind her;
with no regretting or forgetting
of her many handsome lovers;
and while it may be just as well
she has finally capped the well,
sweet violets still grow around it.

© D G Moody 2022

Poetry by D G Moody The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-06-26 at 16:39

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I find this both a sad and enlightened poem. It is an age old tale (excuse the unintended pun). The ability to accept ageing may well depend upon how the individual ages: For example, your protagonist, looses her looks - or rather, her looks change - but otherwise is not much altered. Then there are others who do not look their age, but suffer physical symptoms of their age. The latter group may be forgiven for not accepting!
I love the final line. Sweet violets will grow around it. Fabulous!