Autobiography of a face

Withered from time
I can trace every line
Skin not as supple as when we were kids
But then again, neither is mine
There is a certain tone to her face
That looks like a royal tan
And lays on her cheeks like Ethiopian dust.
She is still that royal heir.
Her laugh lines tell a story
Whether you know her or not.
They say she has smiled a million times,
Easily, the exact same way but
The narrow thin lines at the corner of her eyes make me wonder
About the real pains that she has endured;
About the years she spent down on the farm;
The years that can sometimes bring tears to her eyes-
But still….
She is royalty…..
A queen-
Especially to me.

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