Panacea

The lady was old
short
wrinkled like a root,
buying a half-pint of Vodka.

Her dress was correct
her demeanor kind
and she had pretty eyes.

She must have been beautiful once
I thought,
must have made men happy
made children safe
and herself a home.

So being alone
I asked her shyly
"Do you wish that you were young?"

"No," she said,
and winked at me,
"I wish that you were old."

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