She wakes to dance

She wakes to dance, the dull march of life
wretched in her bones and skin. 
It leaves dark trenches on the sturdy oak bedroom floor, 
trembling under her naked feet.

Memories are shining 
in the dust that jumps up 
against the late evening sun. 
She tries to catch them
but her time travelled hands, are slow
in the dusk to come.

Lone, Lonesome
She frolics on
Heartbreaking 
this old ladies song

She wakes to find herself
in a child’s mind 
clinging on to careless summer days 
They are slipping away
like the grains of sand, 
they once looked like drops of gold

She wonders
‘is it me starring those corny clichés?’ 
for ever entangling our minds 
A sigh, grin 
for the futile attempts 
to revive those blear delusions

Sore, Sorrows 
she sings away 
the troubled moods 
that darkened her day