I sit across a bitch
Withered and starving
A carcass of breathing bones
In a cloak of past silken glory

Poised like a queen
Poor starved sickened
Yet dignified?
Yet strong?

A little ahead of me
Sits an old woman
Wrinkled and bone thin
Drooping lips

Stern chin
Yet gentle eyes
Face a story of sorrow
Yet eyes the pool of kindness

In the morning mist
By the serene seas
She too is draped in past
Beauty and graceful elegance

A stiff spine
Straight shoulders
Bent with bygone burdens
Yet she sits strong and upright

Dignified personas
Old and bent they may be
Burdened as well
Yet the spirit of the soul shining