An old woman's voice carries in the breeze,
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A lifetime of memories re-told with ease,
Painful moments of joyous times,
A wistful sigh as a church bell chimes.
She tells her life in colour,
Painting a portrait with her words,
A hundred years of living
Is worth its own rewards,
And there are no shades of grey
In her brightly coloured day,
She takes the good with the bad
And strives to feel all she's had.
And time is no friend, but it's no enemy,
It's carried her through a whole century.
She bears the scars of yesterday
And not a moment would she wish away
As she remembers all she's lost
She thinks of all she's gained
And she wouldn't trade one tomorrow
For a hundred yesterdays.