Year after year
As youth slips away
Piece by piece
A woman
Puts on her jewelry.

Not unlike the washing of a turnip
Or the leaping of a fish
(Though this be but a platitude)
Those days of youth—
Were they but a shiny ornament
Coming only once?

At times when out for a stroll
I am taken aback
To see my shabby self
Reflected in a store window.

Those sparkling jewels,
Where were they lost?
Masked in this ridiculous clothing,
What does it mean?

In a foglike weariness
I open the door
Hiding myself from view
Like an invisible flower shop.

The young, too,
In the full bloom of youth,
Flowers like jewels
To delight the eye.

Reaching for a flower,
My trembling hand
Becomes cheerless
A dried-up leaf devoid of dew.

Returning
In secret
Slipping on my deep purple amethyst ring
A languid feeling soothes my soul.