She stood by the window
Watching the rain pour down
It was as though each drop
That hit the glass and rolled down
Was a short lie
A number of those hitting the window
Before her eyes
Yet in felt as though it was raining inside
The drops left their physical bodies on the glass
And their souls proceeded to become one with her
The cold of the floor going through her feet in to her legs
The teacup in her hand is empty
She analyzes the beautiful blue pattern
Looks like something a sweet elderly lady would have in her cuboard
On the bottom it says "made in England"
A snort of derision and dry smile
As she turns away from the rain
She catches a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror
She shortly runs her finger by the deep wrinkles mocking her on her face
Age meant nothing to her, they were not enemies
She smiled at her age
It had no power here