eight decades worn, a life well-etched
inside her eyes, a fire unfetched
the world gets slow, her body creaks
and anger simmers potent leaks
some call it rage, her fury’s fight,
but it’s razzle-dazzles she calls this plight
for some may see a frail, old frame
within it burning fiercer flame
the razzle-dazzles’ youthful zest
is spirit forming unsuppressed
so don’t mistake a gentle guise
this fire still flickers in her eyes
for even at eighty, anger’s grace,
razzle-dazzles light up her face