An Old Woman Clipping Her Nails
An Etching by Rembrandt
Poem
By Wayne Guymon
Golden light streams in upon a woman.
A careless gesture it is, clipping one’s nails.
We see her hands;
Hands that have known tenderness
And given tenderness in silent moments,
Hands that have held close the paraphernalia of her life
And grown old and wrinkled, but not weary.
Now, they remain forever stopped,
In the simple motion of a simple life.
About the Author
Wayne Guymon
Mr. Guymon lives in New York City and has published poetry in Columbia Review, Poetry Parade, and the Improvement Era. He also has two poems in the Encounter anthology.