the old woman as old as the old mansı on <br />plasters fallı ng down from the wall <br />brickets grinning grinnnig and grinn ing barely <br />tiles some broken...some sparse <br />unlocks the gate of the old ancient mansion <br />keeps the door open for a while <br />to collect some bushes and wood from the garden <br />to use as kindling in stove or oven <br />she seems to be alone <br />but knows how cope with life life..bitter life <br />she shouts at the dogs playing in the garden <br />and scoulds them to go away <br />it is winter <br />may be the second week of the january <br />some snow <br />some thistles though brownish yellow <br />are upright to heaven <br />though no sparrows and finches..desolate <br />she not only unlocks the gate of the old ancient mansion <br />but she also unlocks the memorı es of her life <br />she seems to be alone...alone and alone <br />cool as a stone..erect <br />she has accepted the bitter reality of life <br />where are her parents...her husband.. <br />her children... <br />her sisters..her brothers..her relatives <br />next of kins <br />noone knows <br />she then enters the old ancient mansı on <br />locks and bolts the gate <br />at night <br />light gleams <br />from one of the second storey rooms <br />of the old ancient mansion <br />it is winter <br />may be second week of january <br />in one of the desolate gardens of universe <br />life goes on desolately <br />under the guard and auspı eces of our creator <br />the GOD<br /><br />Metin Sahin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-woman-and-the-old-mansion/
