She sees the young people.
Exchanging daydreams
In beautiful  eyes
across the room

The woman with silvered hair
Sighs and sips the vinegar wine.
Her black ash mascara
awaiting her tears that are
Ready to trail her cheeks
with unwanted memories.

Time awaits for her
around the shadows wearing
A scythe and cloak in fearful dread.

A lifetime of assignations
lie in the graveyard .
A lone plot deep and dark
It's soil freshly dug
Bears her name.

she nods politely  at the young.
Her smile hiding the wreckage
Of her life.
But she knows the truth

That lies beneath her makeup
The dried lipstick on crystal glasses
That will not wash away.
Or the water Stains on her soul
Of a thousand stories
She has never written.