She at 70
She sat at the tableBut she moved gracefully, dancing,
She wore an old robe,
But she was dressed in blue satin,
Her hand, her neck were unadorned,
But she sparkled in diamonds
Grey hair fell across her brow
But it curled in dark tendrils,
Falling softly, 'round her shoulders.
She drank hot tea,
But her glass bubbled with champagne...
"Grandma," the little child asked, pulling her sleeve,
"Grandma, do you hear me?"
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