THE OLD MAIDEN PART 2

She could not recognize me,

Though zealous she was

To know who I was.

I reminded her of her days,

The wrestling match of men,

Who vigorously fought,

For her hand in marriage.

“Remember the referee?”

I solemnly asked

“The black referee” she interrupted

“Yes, ” I replied

“That was quite an age”

She soliloquized.

“Hmm, all is vanity”,

She said, as she faces

The window absent-mindedly

Looking through the window

Ignoring my presence.

For some time I look at her,

The once vibrant, active and beautiful

Maiden. The beautiful pride of the village;

The old maiden.

All is vanity,

Just as she said,

Herself a typical example,

The once beauty of the village

Now the old wrinkled weak maiden

All is vanity.