A LATE OCTOBER AFTERNOON

A LATE OCTOBER AFTERNOON

Glaring sunlight blasts in the upper corner

of the French swing-out window above her desk.

Most of the leaves have dropped from

the honey locust and oak,

the filter they provided gone.

She sees everything in the harsh reality

of this white-hot fire and it hurts to look,

like seeing a once perfect young face

permanently covered with fine lines and webs 

of wrinkles that act as a mute map of time,

recording her former golden brilliance, the story 

of her life etched with the geometry of years.

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 "seeing a once perfect young face permanently covered with fine lines and webs of wrinkles that act as a mute map of time, recording her former blazing brilliance, the story of her long life saved in skin.

like seeing a face once smooth as marbleupon a face once smooth as marble,

now etched with the geometry of years

The radiant geometry of her youth has given way to a landscape of lines—a map of moments where the story of a long life remains safely gathered in skin."