Cloaked in learned tissue paper skin

Smiling with traveler’s, blue souled eyes

Grand Lady whispers to me a precious roaming life

Quaint cafes and martini glass toasts

All cherished by a selfish vagabond me

I was baptized in my Mediterranean shores

Bowed profoundly to humble Great Wall monks

Haggled like a demon with a Turkish merchant

Naturally, I refused to marry a handsome bore

Unsurprisingly, I was unwilling to mother a token child

Grand Lady is left with a kind nurse, gardener and me

At the grand old age of 100 years young

 Being alone doesn’t mean your ever lonely, she utters

I leave driven in capturing 2% of her life

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