Tragically the sands of time are nearing the end
Her nightingale voice cracks with age
Her hair is white and dull
Her youthful flesh, scarred and sagging
Fond memories of fiery passion fade
She turns, and looks into your eyes
You are overcome by her enchanting gaze
Deeper you stare, searching her eyes for her wisdom of age
You realize you already know the answers inside...
Then, you smash the mirror.