Widow of the Well
From the road afar at some height
We witnessed a well with surroundings bare
Only some moss didn’t cover all the sight
The untouched well looked fairly rare
Covered ruin almost vanished
Hid a withered lady frail
Whilst approaching light became banished
Glooming the face lights up pail
For all those who have met
This woman gray
Remember the words she said
We too remember what she did say:
The lines of sorrow
Her features stirred by memories
She speaks with voice deep and hollow
Telling about greater glories
Telling about what didn’t last
She opens an old entry
To the land of her past
Bringing us away to another century
Her words are weaving;
See fields of grass withering
Trembling cheeks as of her grieving
Are tears glittering