The crinkled, sand paper, hand trembled as she held the rose.

Her blue veins, like drawn rivers, were completely exposed.

Sitting alone smiling, her mouth quivered, a tear betrays.

A gentleman offering a handkerchief, in her disbelief, stays.

She and the old man soon begin to court.

The woman longed dearly to be his consort.

However, she thought, who marries a hag when life is half done?

Her thin, aluminium, hair proof that old age can never be outrun.

That evening near the shore, she found a pearl, opening a clam with her thumb.

It glowed in the sun; ashamed she realized beauty is not needed for wisdom.

Kissing the petal, tasting sweet on her tongue.

She may not have beauty, but wisdom keeps one forever young.