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The Cruelty of Time

I look down at my hands,
All wrinkled and gray.
Liver spots abound,
Thin blue veins like snakes.

I look at my eyes,
No spark of vitality.
Is this what it’s like,
To be dead?

My face is withered,
And sagging and wrinkled,
This cannot be me,
This pallor of death!

Time is a thief!
He has robbed me!
My hands were smooth,
And pale as ivory

My eyes shined with joy,
Entrancing all around me.
I danced, and I danced, and I danced,
I was the personification of life.

Where has my youth gone?
Where has my beauty gone?
You crept up on me slowly,
And then you stole everything!

I look in the mirror
And all I see
Is an old woman
Longing for her youth.