She touches the bed

Where they used to sleep,

Years of good love,

Memories to keep.


She picks up a book

From the old cedar chest,

Blossoms between pages--

Those years were the best.


Sweet loving treasures

Of beauty and beast,

Life turned to ugliness

When death came to feast.


She turns to the mirror

And removed what concealed,

The beauty of youth

No longer revealed.


Shadows bring darkness

Closer to today,

Reminding her that age

Has taken him away.


How is love to come so late

Selected not by looks,

Believing beauty IS the beast

Mentioned in all books.


Empty mirrors--empty love

Joined hand-in-hand,

Like beauty fills the hourglass

Empties into sand.