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My Old Mother

I looked into my mother’s face today, not just glanced, but really looked into her eyes, and saw that her lids were dragging much more heavier weights; saw that her red hair dye was no longer strong enough to disguise the black, could not line the shining silver strands; saw that her ears were wider, brighter, believed what they said about them never stopping alongside time; saw that her cheeks had become sullen, collapsed inward; saw that her nostrils were wide, her nose bent, the area around them flamed; saw that even her lips, those lips that had kissed me all over so many times, had shouted at me, had crooned to me, even they were dried, parched, shriveled into a thousand cracks.

And then i left the house because i could bear it no longer.