She walks through the crowd slowly, but surely
Her presence felt by all that come in contact with her
The lines on her face represent wisdom and experience
Her body is slightly bent, wearing the oppression and depression 
Like a newly tailored suit
Her eyes are like the deepest of oceans, and have many stories to tell
No time for glitz or glamour
The natural beauty that is there, would put any supermodel to shame
Her make-up is not that of a fancy designer
But is made of strength, tenacity and perseverance
Loving her husband and taking care of her children, is all that she has known
Sacrifice and submission is what her life's mission has been
With traces of her Soul sprinkled throughout the cotton fields of North Carolina
Her Spirit is left naked and uncared for
Stretching herself beyond herself
If we could, oh, but bottle an ounce of the knowledge she has
Our riches would overflow
The battle scars she possess are not the result of a war
But from that which has been required of her
The casualty being SELF
Please take heed and don't forget
Before she takes her final rest
To take a look, and try to surmise
By delving into these Old Woman's Eyes