W – Withered
When you look at me, do you see the passions of a young girl? Do you see me?
These hands once held a favorite baby doll. They tenderly held a lover. They held a child to comfort and a spouse as they passed.
These feet, skipped, danced and played in the rain. They wore high heels and hiking boots.
I once told secrets in the dark, giggling with childish delight. I ran and jumped and fought imaginary pirates, or cowboys.
Behind these eyes, once sparking and clear, lies the heart of adventure and daring. Yesterday my long dark hair would fly behind me as I chased tomorrow.
Now my body moves slowly and the aches and pains are many. My hair is thin and silver. My memory of yesterday is not as clear as it once was.
When you look at me, do you see me? Or do you see the withered shell?