The crone fire

They laugh assuming her past understanding

Her youth spent

So the spirit will be damped down

Sweet old lady all lavender and powder puff

And she smiles warming her words.

She doesn’t bother saying she was young too

They neither know nor care

So beyond seeing their world and ways

Think her unable to get their snarky lines

Comments deriding while they smile

Pitying what they don’t grasp

Nor even want to.

They sit by the fire filling bellies and she eats little

The crone they think is fading and old

Living triumphs that mean nothing to them

Who was she a doting housewife?

What could they learn from her? Ha.

When she speaks their faces pale

Oh they have misunderstood the wizened one

Who breathes fire and gives life to things

They never credited her as able to do.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2018

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Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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