Weathered - By Elizabeth Bryan

It's a bit rough.

My face, my forehead, my feet and every now and again,

my demeanor.

That feeling of butter-soft leather,

taut and shiny,

fresh with promise and idealism

is gone.

"Sun damage" he called it. More like

the wearing of the years, the strife,

the angst.

Surely it is not the sun. The giver of life?

With it's sudden mood swings it has turned my face into a flaky desert

Like the flats of Bonneville

crusted with salt.

Yet I can see this old face is still fresh,

and shiny.

And I can see the danger still clinging beneath my surface

when I peer through the blush and move further from

the glass.

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Elizabeth is a textile artist who lives in Orangeville with her husband and a menagerie. In addition to creating with fibre she also sings, cooks, takes photos, and can now add writing to her list of creative pursuits.

IG: @weaverbee