The lady in the old old painting

that I inherited from my mother

(who I believe acquired it from some European relative unknown to me)

is walking down a country lane in a little village.

This lady looks old & weary

& I imagine her pace

is steady but slow.

I imagine she is going

about her day,

doing what must be done

(farm tasks, domestic tasks, surely).

She inspires me, that quiet lady who has no voice because she exists in a painting.

I, too, go about my daily tasks,

I keep on walking,

just a steady slow pace

is all I need.