The trails on her face
As if permanently etched
Falling from the ever-changing
Lights if her eyes
From bright to dim
To almost gone

Falling to the point of her chin
Sloping to a halt

The trails dewey in nature
As if permanently etched to her.

Set your sights out west, my friend
And know that on your back
Will always rest the dawn. Follow not
These golden roads paved by fools
Where every toll asks payment from
The only treasure one would hate to lose.
Pull the reigns on your hurried pace, and
Sing to silence when it calls your name.

Leaving the light on, keeping the  monsters that dance through your night on their toes.

It was dark, even so, I could see, that the dragons breathing fire were out there to
toast me

and when you're sixty five, closing your eyes and hoping the night things won't see you doesn't work.