When young of heart her days came quick, her love life came and went;
It was only by a miracle she gave to any man.
Her body aged not by the years; her body aged by months.
To look at Cielia demanded strength; and all Gods mighty power.
At twenty-five her eyes were fifty, her skin hung down in rows.
At thirty-five her face was cold and made us turn away.
Her husband turned to drink for that, to pass the time of day;
His thoughts were of Cielia, Her age, Her face, Her bones.
The pub stayed lit on weekday nights from Cielia's kneading hands;
The ale her old man drank each hour was bought from Cielias' bleeding hands.
Cielia loved her man so much she rose with him each dawn,
The meals she cooked for him each morn came from love and beyond.
But by the time the birds were warm and the dew had left the grass;
It was Cielia who was shown the door to make more money for gas.
The winters came with frigid winds, the springs with bright wet days,
Yet everyday Cielia came with more womens work she begged.
Her wrinkles deepened with succeeding years, her eyes were cold but true;
And everytime I saw her face, it etched itself on me a new.
We left that base on a summer day; the earth felt warm for a change;
We drove for awhile, really slow, then headed south toward the bay.
Cielia waved with her hand so slight, she knew we knew her age;
She raised her head and smiled with pride, and stepped backward through the gate.
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