The Silent Old Woman
she is unthinkable
i still think so
for in her hands
lies the bomb that
she may throw
at her enemies
yet she didn't
she stays in the house
reciting the prayers
offered for
her dead ancestors
when she opens the window
it is because she likes light to filter
warmth between the fibers
of her orange curtains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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