To age and die
Natural, beautiful
Meant

But for her,
Lain waste to no clock
Only her smile has turned ashen,
Pale,
For what to smile about
When all whom she loved,
Is long since past?

She sits under the Bradford pears
Watching the snow of white, falling petals
Remembering a hundred years ago
When the old downtown was new
The streets were dirt and brick

She remembers a warm August day
When she watched them paint a Lady
on the side of a new, brick building
To advertise Tuxedo Tobacco
A good day then

She goes there still, to look at that Lady
Even the mural gets to fade
But not she

She faces
The Ravages Of Time~Less

If you died today,
what
ideas,
what
stories,
what
dreams
would die with you?