The Mother of a Mother

Woman, your icon's indeed a nostalgia.

Have the ugliest hands for you had endured blood red hue.

Your incandescent brown eyes are nefarious

Yet could bring tears of great happiness.

Smell like an old book and tobacco smoke.

Your lips that add fuel to the fire of blissful Gehenna called love.

Your wrinkled face reminds how time made you.

Old yet worth more than gold.

Dauntless and beautiful.