When YOU look at her
you see a 60-year old woman,
badly scarred by life, carrying
her experiences upon her like
a frumpled sack of old clothes…
Surely this is not the person of
my tales…
my stories of the past…..
the woman I hail to be the
Mata Hari, Queen Elizabeth
and Mother Teresa?
Can you not see that the
explanation for my slight
exaggeration is love?
When I look at her I see all
that, and more…..
I see myself….
She's just more Glorious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have to say I've not read a poem on such a topic, but it does pose some very interesting and thoughtful introspection