The hag

Her face is old and full of lines
each line a tale in which to find.
 To some, a hag and wicked witch
a fairy tale the queen a bitch.
Was maiden, mother now a crone
who sits and knits upon her throne.
Gentle hands though they are rough
brittle bones but still are tough.
Her hair now white but still is long
she brushes it and sings a song.
She lives in caves and huts of wood
and stirs a fire under hood.
Her feline pet her faithful friend
will be with her until the end.
She now is now herself a crone
and sits upon her ladies throne