Stories in Wrinkles

The creases on her cheeks,

Watchful to the change of the seasons,

The lines on her forehead,

Have witnessed the passage of time.

Her heart is a garden

Where roses bloom

And feelings of quietness tender.

Her eyes, enclosed by the slanting eyebrows,

Her smiles, glowing above the scars in the face,

Whisper the tales of joys and hardships.

Old woman, mother,

Each of your wrinkles

Sings the symphony of love,

A pulse of splendor and patience.

By Bimal Kishore Shrivastwa

From: Nepal

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