Her Golden Age

Lives alone in a house of memories
Her kids have all grown up and gone their ways
Talks to God through her prayers and rosaries

No speck of dust can be found in this place
The sunlight shines through the curtains of lace
As she hides all the wrinkles on her face

The kids next door call her a wicked witch
Tell her to drop dead and fall in a ditch
Calls only come from those with a sales pitch

She thinks of the man once near at her side
A prince who she could dream with and confide
Been over a decade since her love died

Pictures from her past cloud her restless sleep
It's four A.M. and she begins to weep
Fear of no tomorrow and pain run deep

She still waits for her ticket through the gate
To outlive the others has been her fate
The clock ticks away the seconds she's late

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