The Old Woman

I watch her walk by me
all stooped and slow,
The scent of patchoulli
caresses my nose.

She doesn't seem to see me
as she passes me by,
Instead as if counting every step
she looks down with aged eyes.

Wrinkles now cover
what once was intact,
Her faded blue dress hangs
off skin that is slack.

Her hair is like cotton
the color of snow,
It's missing in places
she's tried hard not let show.

As she nears a store window
she dares not to look,
At what the passing of time
so brutally took.

For her friends are all gone now
her husbands passed too,
She finds herself alone
not knowing what to do.

She recalls fond memories
of days long ago,
Yet even they seem to be fading
as she loses control.

Of what once was
and what may have been,
So she tries to collect them
to rethink them again.

I stare at this woman
as though it were me,
Like a mirror of reflection
is letting me see.

That soon I too
will walk with gentle steps,
Counting the days like hours
of what time I have left.

I have let life's heartache
and bitterness of past days,
Create for me nothing
but torment and haze.

I must find the laughter
and beauty of life,
Not take advantage
of motherhood and wife.

I feel a needed teardrop
as  it falls to the ground,
For it seems my eyes have opened
with new wisdom found.

For death forsakes no one
it reaches for us all,
So where will you be
when it comes to call?