~
there’s a purity in her voice
a smooth musical breathing,
evasive, subtle, constant, it’s
as if a calm ache is seeping
from her pained lips, a whisper
in the chill of a winter morning,
she sings for herself, impassively
disinterested in those who listen
the few years sit lightly on her
sculpting her finely drawn
downcast alabaster beauty
*
© GRS 10/26
